


Monsters

by Cibeeeee



Series: Monsters [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Additional Characters are: Mercy, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Ana and Reinhardt, Characters beside McCree and Hanzo only makes small appearance, D.Va - Freeform, Gen, Genji and Zenyatta, Junkrat and Roadhog, M/M, Mei - Freeform, Rating May Change, Symmetra - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-08 16:50:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 32,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12258267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cibeeeee/pseuds/Cibeeeee
Summary: "...that a monster is not such a terrible thing to be. From the Latin root monstrum, a divine messenger of catastrophe, then adapted by the Old French to mean an animal of myriad origins: centaur, griffin, satyr. To be a monster is to be a hybrid signal, a lighthouse: both shelter and warning at once." - Ocean Vuong, from “A Letter To My Mother That She Will Never Read”,Stories of monsters, where they are monstrous, where they are kind, where they are just supernatural beings different from the humans. Where the word "monster" isn't a curse. They travel, they have societies, they make friends, and they fall in love.(Inktober for writers - featuring werewolf McCree and Oni Hanzo, and other monsters)





	1. Day 1: Searching

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series for [Inktober ](https://boom-its-chris.tumblr.com/post/165751105961/spymastery-as-i-mentioned-doing-just-yesterday), but also my desire to write about monsters and creatures being like people. 
> 
> Featuring Werecree and Oni Hanzo. I know I'm already a few days late but I'll try to catch up. Hope I can see these stories through the whole 30 days hahaha...

“What are we _searching_ for?”

 

“This is the fifth time you have asked me that question in exactly five minutes. I did not tell you the first time, I won’t tell you now. Annoying me into talking will not work.”

 

McCree pulled down his hat further more. His words were muffled by the serape he had wrapped around his lower face since an hour ago, but the irritation was still palpable, “I wasn’t trying to be annoying.”

 

It took Hanzo three seconds to realize the mistake he made. Six months of companionship did not negate the two-hundred years of solitude. He did not mean to castigate McCree. He merely wanted to take McCree’s words to heart – “Talk to me more.” It became very evident very quickly that Hanzo wasn’t that great at talking. During his years of wandering, the only beings he had conversed with was his brother, the _Rakshasi_ whose name he still could not say – not until he apologize for accidentally burning her books into ashes – and some other beings that had the unfortunate luck of crossing his way.

 

But Hanzo wanted to talk to McCree, even if it had never been his strong suit.

 

“You can take your hat off,” Hanzo said. “There’s no living humans in her forest.”

 

“Living?” McCree shifted uncomfortably.

 

“The dead are everywhere, especially in the territory of a witch,” Hanzo said. McCree eyed Hanzo’s insouciant attitude with a downcast mouth. Hanzo smirked at the uneasy air that hung around the werewolf.

 

“You will get used to it,” Hanzo paused to look at a tree trunk, scraping some of the skin off with his talons. Zeigler said she had left marks in the forests to indicate the path, so far Hanzo only found two. If Hanzo does not get to his destination before sunrise, Zeigler will receive a very unnecessarily prolix complaint from himself. A deal promising three favors from a high-class _oni_ should not have received such poor service.

 

“Where are we going?” McCree asked again.

 

“Somewhere,” Hanzo replied. Traces of copper came back underneath his talons, Hanzo marked an X on that tree. “I said you can take off the hat.”

 

“Well, I don’t want to.”

 

“No need to bury yourself under it, then. Look around you, I thought you said you’ve never been to Switzerland.”

 

McCree was quiet as he followed Hanzo. His hat remained downcast.

 

“The ice reflects my face,” McCree mumbled.

 

Hanzo stopped his search. McCree’s eyes were hidden in the shadows of the bleak winter night, but if the wind crossed his path just…right, Hanzo could see the red glow peeking through.

 

“There’s nothing wrong with your face,” Hanzo said. Somewhere in the void darkness, between snow and trees, an owl ululated. Angela was warning him of the time, but Hanzo could hardly care at the moment.

 

“It looks too much like my human face, just with demon’s eyes,” McCree replied. “It ain’t normal.”

 

“We are nothing close to normal, McCree,” Hanzo looked at the stars. The time was almost up, his search might never see its rest. “We do not have to continue if you are not feeling well.”

 

McCree shook his head. “No, no…let’s go.”

 

A pair of yellow eyes was gazing at Hanzo when he turned back to the path. Zeigler had taken pity on them, sending out her creatures to guide the way. Or she was just worried Hanzo would not uphold his end of the deal if he never got to his destination.

 

The owl tried to bite Hanzo when he walked near. It was probably the latter, then.

 

They followed the owl for two minutes, until it soared up into the air and vanished into the darkness. Hanzo approached the tree line with caution, holding a hand against McCree’s chest to stop him. McCree stepped back.

 

Hanzo nocked an arrow, aiming into the abyss. All the sound around them stopped the second Hanzo’s fingers let loose. The wind, the animals, the snow, the stars, all silenced, lie in wait.

 

When the tip of the demon’s arrow made contact with the witch’s barrier, a flash of light burst forth, blinding everything. McCree let out a shout, and suddenly, sounds returned to them.

 

“Jesus Christ,” McCree palmed his eyes. When he snapped his hand away to glare at Hanzo, his eyes were shining even brighter from the tears. At least he wasn’t hiding them anymore. At least Hanzo could see them now.

 

“My apologies,” Hanzo said, quite besottedly. McCree did not noticed the lapse from Hanzo. Thankfully, it takes more than a year for a newborn to get used to a monster’s heightened senses, or else McCree would have realized Hanzo’s state of infatuation a long time ago.

 

McCree grumbled as he past Hanzo. Hanzo followed, dropping the veil behind him.

 

“Are we here?” McCree asked, looking at the darkness before them. Below them was a valley, nominally, it was Switzerland and Liechtenstein’s property. In actuality, it was the experimental playground of witches under the lead of Angela Zeigler. “Doesn’t look like much.”

 

“Some places are only special when the time is right,” Hanzo retorted, his eyes on the stars. “Just a few minutes more.”  

 

McCree huffed, pulling his hat down once more, and sat down in the snow. Hanzo joined him, placing his quiver and bow next to him.

 

It started out small. Hanzo saw it only because he was waiting for it. McCree did not see them until the third one appeared. Tiny, glowing lights, buried deep beneath the valley. Pods of memories, stored here by generations of witches for whoever enlisted their help to keep a particular memory safe.

 

The spell renews itself on the first sunrise of the tenth month. The light it generated shone through the dirt, the rocks, and the snow, making for a very popular attraction among monsters and other beings.

 

And from what Hanzo could see, there was nothing but them around here. Angela had made good on her side of the deal.

 

_Did you doubt me?_ A voice rang in his head.

 

_Just old habits._ Hanzo replied. _Thank you for this._

 

_You’re welcome._ Zeigler said. _He looks happy._

 

Hanzo turned to McCree. The hat was finally gone, pressed against McCree’s chest to keep safe from the wind. McCree’s eyes were wide, shining from the lights that had multiplied by the thousands in the past few seconds.

 

“Holy Moly,” McCree said. Hanzo did not think he meant to say that out loud. “You don’t see this much as a human, do you?”

 

“Nor as a monster,” Hanzo said.

 

“You’ve seen this before?”

 

“A few times. One of these lights is mine.”

 

McCree glanced at Hanzo, but he did not say anything. That was why Hanzo felt comfortable enough to share, McCree understood the need to be listened to, and not asked questions.

 

“Well, shit. It really is something.”

 

Hanzo let McCree marveled at the sight a few moments more before he spoke again, “It is not all bad, is it?”

 

“What?”

 

“Being a monster.”

 

McCree straightened.

 

“It is not such a terrible thing to be,” Hanzo whispered, looking at his hands, marred with scars. But McCree had said they were beautiful when Hanzo first met him. McCree had said he never met someone so beautiful, and he would die a lucky man if Hanzo killed him.

 

Hanzo didn’t kill him; he never wanted to, tried to, nor was able to. If McCree thought he was beautiful, why does he reject himself, when he was also – ?

 

Something caught Hanzo’s eyes, more prominent than the lights. McCree’s smile. McCree’s smile – his smile that was not seen for weeks, right before Hanzo’s eyes.

 

“I reckon it isn’t,” McCree smiled. He turned back to the valley, his smile stayed.

 

And with that – Hanzo’s search rested.  

 

  


	2. Day 2: Barefoot

Water always drained Hanzo. He was fine with rain, enjoy it to an extent, but not a situation he would willingly put himself into. It seemed ironic considered Hanzo could cause storms if he was furious enough – Genji used to laugh at Hanzo’s uncomfortable scowl whenever their wrath resulted in a downpour.

 

Rain, dew, fog, splashes of water – not Hanzo’s favorite.

 

To some people, on the other hand…

 

McCree toppled into the river once again. The absent of his left arm made it very difficult to splash around without falling every two seconds. Although Hanzo would say McCree was adapting his wolf form quite well considering his reluctance to stay in such state on any other day.

 

If any human come across this scene, it would be a fifty-fifty chance of them screaming and running away (due to Hanzo), or staying to coo at McCree. Despite McCree’s terrifying size, his wet fur and tail-chasing did lessen his intimidating form drastically.

 

McCree howled and bounded toward Hanzo as best as he could with three limbs. The giant wolf stopped just before Hanzo’s spot on the dry (somewhat) and peaceful (somewhat) riverbed, panting heavily.

 

McCree pressed his wet nose – wet face, actually, to Hanzo’s shoulder and pulled back. Hanzo sighed and reluctantly reached out to push the wet fur that had covered McCree’s eyes in the process of frolicking out of the way.

 

Hanzo met McCree’s red eyes with a deadpanned expression, shaking his hand clean of water. “Enjoying yourself?”

 

McCree put his paw on Hanzo’s shoulder and gave him a hearty lick directly from chin to forehead. He ignored Hanzo’s grunt of disgust and shook all the water off only to jump back into the water again. McCree’s fur was so thick and full that it contained the amount of water of a small pool. Hanzo was drenched without even stepping foot in the river.

 

“I am going to shave you!” Hanzo shouted across the river where McCree was happily paddling around the deep end, his fur covering his eyes again.

 

Hanzo stood up and tried his best to wring water out of his clothes. He could just burn it all and steal some human suit before getting to a dealer, he would have if he was still alone.

 

“Why not come in?” McCree’s voice, all smug and joyful, traveled to shore and made Hanzo’s muscles twitched. “Take your boots off and dip in, they’re all wet already.”

 

McCree patted his stump on the surface of the water as someone would when inviting a friend to sit down. Hanzo glared at McCree from the corner of his eye – at his stoutness, his easy movement. If it wasn’t for the lack of wolf ears Hanzo would have thought McCree never transformed back with the amount of hair covering him.

 

Hanzo lifted his face up and sighed, his eyes never leaving McCree.

 

“You coming?”

 

Hanzo took off his armored boots, and rested his feet in the water. McCree let out a mock cheer. Hanzo tied his hair into a neat bun on the top of his head before removing his shirt.

 

“Have you ever zap someone with your lightning while they’re in water?” McCree asked when Hanzo drifted into earshot. Hanzo swam backwards, passing McCree. McCree twisted his neck to follow Hanzo.

 

“No,” Hanzo replied. “I would never do that to the creatures in the waters.”  

 

“What if the person you’re trying to kill is in a kiddy pool?”

 

“I’ve never fought anyone near a kiddy pool before.”

 

McCree started laughing, even almost drowned because he used his arm to clench his stomach. Hanzo swam lazy circles around McCree, waiting.

 

“Hearing you say ‘kiddy pool’ just cracks me up,” McCree let himself float to the surface so he could breathe. Hanzo trained his eyes on McCree’s face to keep them from wandering.

 

When McCree turned to look at him, Hanzo fixed his face into the most austere expression he could muster and said, “Kiddy pool.”

 

Hanzo had to drag McCree up to shore when McCree accidentally sunk down and choked on water from laughing too hard. He was still laughing and coughing as Hanzo draped his serape on his back.

 

While McCree struggled to calm his breathing, Hanzo laid his clothes out and started a small fire next to them. On second thought, McCree might appreciate getting warm even if he doesn’t get cold that easily as a human would anymore. After throwing more wood into the fire, Hanzo turned around and found McCree, curled up in his serape that was now too small for his body.

 

“Why are you feeling particularly…wolfish today?”

 

McCree replied by walking to the fire and setting his head on top of Hanzo’s abdomen, forcing Hanzo to lie down.

 

Hanzo let out an irritated sigh, and McCree puffed a gush of air to Hanzo’s face.

 

They stayed like that. McCree shifted to his side as if this was a comfortable routine they’ve shared for years. Hanzo paused, his fingers tingled from a thought.

 

Then he settled his palm gently on McCree’s head, combing through the now warm fur, across his ears that flattened and snapped back up once Hanzo’s hand passed. Hanzo paid attention. _Watch your talons, don’t hurt him._ Soon Hanzo’s other hand joined, and McCree could not help but present his chin.  

 

Hanzo watched McCree slowly became placid and warm and human in his hands, and wondered if McCree even realized that as McCree brushed his lips against Hanzo’s palm. Hanzo continued to stroke McCree’s hair, moving down to his beard, then back up again.

 

McCree sucked in a deep breath through his nose. Their bare feet brushing against one another, hot from the fire.

 

“I think I wanted to say something,” McCree murmured. “But I don’t rightly remember anything now.”

 

“Then it must not be important,” Hanzo hummed.

 

McCree chuckled. He rested his cheek on Hanzo’s shoulder. Bare feet tangled together. “It’s hard to think of anything important now.”

 

Hanzo let his breathing slowed, almost to only a soft sound, so that McCree’s sleepy body could relax completely. They have nothing urgent to worry about. They have no reason to stop them from getting a little bit of unneeded rest.

 

Hanzo blew out the fire, and warm from the ashes beside him, McCree finally felt safe enough to close his eyes.   


	3. Day 3: Warmth

“Maybe I shouldn’t have survived.”

 

“What are you talking about,” Hanzo pushed a stack of produce, plus another ten bags of coals to the wall so McCree and he would have a place to sit. Hanzo also made a mental note to not buy his groceries from this company anymore.

 

Hanzo sat down, kneeling. McCree remained where he was ever since they sneaked into this storage cart, looking out from a small crack in the doors.

 

“It just seemed unfair, that a criminal of all people, was blessed enough to survive from a werewolf.”

 

“I thought you said you were a vigilant.”

 

“Fancier term.”

 

Hanzo knew this pattern. Especially for monsters who were once humans, the convalescence was always much more agonizing than the actual survival. These individual were not rare, but rarely came across Hanzo’s path. McCree was not the first, however, he was the first that had gotten close enough with Hanzo to ask these questions.

 

Hanzo was not interested nor planning in sugarcoating the truth. “Most survivors died after they’ve become one of us, some from human attacks. More from their own inability to make the mental switch. Be careful, McCree, these doubts gnaw at you more than you would predict.”

 

McCree wrapped his serape tightly around him. “Maybe I’ll die from it after all, then.”

 

“No.”

 

“And why?”

 

Hanzo looked at McCree, even if McCree refused to turn away from that small crack that showed the passing world outside. “Because, unlike you, I do not believe in natural blessings, and that luck cannot save lives.” Hanzo watched McCree slowly fixed his red eyes on him, almost blending into his serape. “So the only reason you had survived a werewolf attack _and_ killed it, is because of your tenacity.”

 

McCree slumped down next to Hanzo. Shoulder to shoulder. McCree’s heavy weight against Hanzo, which he happily bared.

 

“You are alive because of your own strength, McCree,” Hanzo said. “I do not know how to help you overcome this, and I do not think I need to.”

 

The way McCree leaned on Hanzo, was like a wolf seeking the warmth of sunshine. From cold and rigid, to soft and lithe. McCree was a body of warmth and comfortingly heavy present that made Hanzo wondered who was the one in need between them.

 

“Ever consider being a motivational speaker?” McCree laughed. “I think you have a gift at cajoling.”

 

Hanzo huffed. “Don’t be absurd, I was not cajoling you,” he smirked. “I was flirting.”

 

McCree chuckled. “I like the way you win a man’s heart, Mr. Shimada,” he stilled. “Thank you.”

 

“…anytime.”


	4. Day 4: Compliment

“What do you think about this one?”

 

Hanzo glanced at the burgundy sweater, soft material, slightly larger on the ends of the sleeves. “It’s nice.”

 

McCree picked up a blue one. “And this one?” 

 

“It is also nice.”

 

McCree dropped the clothes back on the disheveled heap of clothes he was rummaging through earlier. The workers next to them were glaring daggers at both men, but Hanzo hardly cared, and McCree hardly cared to notice.

 

“I need new clothes, Hanzo,” McCree said. “And you said you’ll help me.”

 

“I said I’ll take you to a wardrobe dealer, where there is far more choices and I can get you the best quality – ”

 

“I can pay for my own crap, thank you,” McCree picked up the two sweaters again. “And calling them ‘dealers’ just makes me think of drugs.”

 

“They have that sort of thing, too.”

 

McCree gave him an unimpressed look.  

 

Hanzo rolled his eyes and McCree returned the sentiment. It was nice to have his impatient acknowledged. McCree rarely caught Hanzo’s eye rolls. Hanzo suspected that the lack of pupils may have attributed to that.

 

“Why don’t you just get both? You’ll look handsome in either of them.”

 

Before McCree’s smirk formed completely, Hanzo rushed to his dignity’s defense, “I just want to get out of this store. Human salespeople always make me want to run.”

 

“And this is coming from a two century old demon.”

 

“Some fears are timeless.”

 

McCree laughed. “All right, I’ll buy both of them, since you so nicely complimented me. But tone it down,” McCree leaned in, his breath ghosting past Hanzo’s ear. “We’re in public.”

 

“So don’t make me do something I’ll regret,” Hanzo growled back. McCree leaned away, that smirk forming after all.

 

Despite their earlier and seemingly adamant resentment, some of the workers still eyed McCree appreciatively as he walked to the checkout.

 

Hanzo resisted the urge to hurl the whole shelve of clothes toward them, so he opted to just push some of the sweaters off its counter as he walks away. That always cheered him up.    


	5. Day 5: Fallen

“I realize I said before I don’t rightly care where we’re going, but you’ve been awfully quiet this whole time – more out of yourself than usual – so just to ease my mind, are you all right?”

 

Hanzo’s pace did not slow, but McCree could see the muscles on his back tightened. Any other day McCree would spend a few moments admiring. “I thought you were going to ask me where we’re going.”

 

McCree puffed out a lazy streak of smoke, it hit Hanzo’s back and the man turned to glare. “Well, I was, but that comes after making sure you’re all right.”

 

Hanzo’s scowl melted into his usual blank look. When he spoke it was not an unkind tone, which kept surprising McCree considering his recent foul mood.

 

“There is nothing you need to concern yourself with, McCree.”

 

“Okay…so who is this person we’re meeting?”

 

Hanzo frowned at that. “How do you know it’s a meeting?”

 

“You’ve been checking the door number ever since we got here.”

 

Hanzo sighed. He supposed he had been too anxious about this appointment to notice. “The person we’re meeting is…notoriously difficult to strike a deal with.”

 

“Why do you need a deal?”

 

Hanzo shrugged. His pace did not slow.

 

McCree sauntered beside him. If it didn’t concern him, he won’t ask Hanzo to speak of it. Hanzo was just worrying McCree a little, that was all. Last Monday they were having peaceful breakfast in a small, old-fashion inn. McCree wasn’t even half awake, and Hanzo was reading the equivalent of _Times_ in the monster world (or so he said). McCree and Hanzo both nursing a cup of wonderful coffee that the werewolf inn owner specially brewed for them, saying it was nice to see a one of her own around, even though there were three other werewolves in the inn with them.  

 

“Are werewolves, I dunno, common or something?” McCree had asked. Most of the people in the dining area had been staring at Hanzo; McCree was practically invisible. “And are you famous or some shit?”

 

Hanzo turned a page. “Yes and no. Werewolves are easier to disguise and blend in with the humans, in turns it’s easier to find partners.”

 

“For what?”

 

“Sex.”

 

“Oh, er, right. And the second question?”

 

“I am not famous, it is just rare to see an eastern demon here.”

 

“I see.”

 

“Also, I’ve tried to kill half of the monsters here.”

 

“ _What_?”

 

It wasn’t until McCree stopped his frantic glancing about the room did he realized Hanzo was teasing him. McCree grumbled and took the last of Hanzo’s bacon, the other man didn’t seem as though he cared.

 

The rest of their conversation went similarly, but as Hanzo plowed through his morning reading to the very last page, his countenance fell to the point where patrons were starting to glance at them warily.

 

“Hanzo?” McCree called tentatively. “You’re starting to make it smoke a bit.”

 

Hanzo finally looked away from the words, and saw that the papers around his grip were burning up, withering into black crisps of smoky ashes, falling around him.

 

He calmly folded the papers away. McCree didn’t push Hanzo into talking, he rarely succeeds in making him talk, anyway.

 

That was the beginning of Hanzo’s unnamed worry. McCree only hope that this meeting would put an end to whatever affair Hanzo concerned himself so severely.

 

They wore heavy clothing to disguise themselves without any help from charms. Most houses were dark and quiet, with the inhabitants in bed. They moved quickly and silently. Finally Hanzo came to a stop, at the only house on the block where the lights were still on.

 

“We’re here,” Hanzo said, but made no move of entering.

 

McCree waited patiently for a few moments, before coughing and asked, “And are we heading in? Can’t imagine it being polite to make people wait.”

 

Hanzo’s fists tightened, and he breathed a long, deep, and painful sounding sigh, as if moving towards the house was a physical agony, and he was preparing for the worst. “Yes, let us face hell.”

 

McCree chuckled. “Don’t be such a drama queen.” Then he gave Hanzo a worried look when he received no riposte.

 

Hanzo knocked on the door. Two firm knock.

 

Not two seconds later the door opened, and the most cheerful, agreeable and pleasant woman appeared. Hanzo took a cautious step back, right into McCree’s arms.

 

“Hanzo! It is so good to see you again!” The woman waited politely for Hanzo to initiate a handshake to reciprocate enthusiastically.

 

“Miss Zhou, it is…to see you too.”

 

McCree rolled his eyes at Hanzo’s sloppy reply and offered his own hand. “The name’s Jesse McCree, pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

 

Miss Zhou’s smile widened at the sight of McCree, and gave a strong but soft (how was that possible?) handshake.

 

“Mr. McCree. Please, come in. I’ll make you some tea.”

 

As Miss Zhou ambled out of view and both men sat down at the coffee table, McCree could not help but shake his head at Hanzo.

“I can’t understand you. Now what is she? A monster that snuggles people to death? A mermaid that sings you nursery rhymes? Oh, I’ve got it – she’s Mrs. Claus.”

 

Hanzo rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed “Do not be fooled by her appearance.”

 

“Oh, yeah, she looked like the real devil in those fluffy bunny slippers.”

 

Hanzo glared at McCree as the literal embodiment of everything adorable rejoined them with a tray full of mugs of tea and pastries that smelled like angels baked it themselves.

 

“I grew all the herbs in my conservatory!” Miss Zhou said proudly.

 

McCree took a deep whiff of the tea. “Hm, smells free of poison,” and stared Hanzo in the eyes as he sipped the beverage. Hanzo sighed a bone-deep sigh, looking like a mother with a defiant child.

 

“Miss Zhou,” Hanzo turned his attention away from McCree. “I am here to talk to you about your next research paper.”

 

“Yes,” she said, nodded to McCree, which received a confused look from him. “I’m afraid I can’t agree to your request.”

 

“And why is that? Omitting the name will not lessen your credibility. The person of interest could very well be hunted dead twenty-four hours after your paper is published.”

 

“My source asked me to include every detail of this incident. He said – ”

 

“And is this source of yours named Gregory Lee?”

 

Both Zhou and McCree drew back from shock, talking at once.

 

“How do you – ”

 

“From _Deadlock_?”

 

Hanzo regarded Zhou with his ferocious eyes, obstinate as ever, “He told you he was with the government,” he paused to pull out a folder, and handed it to Zhou. “He’s actually one of the gang members from Deadlock, and US based gang that smuggles contrabands in and out of North and South America. And this,” Hanzo singled out a paper and pushed it to Zhou, “is the wanted list in the black market.”

 

Zhou’s eyes stopped after reading the first name. “Jesse McCree is wanted for sixty million.”

 

Now McCree was all out of good mood from teasing and good tea, “It got up since I last checked.”

 

“Since you last checked, you disabled half of your old gang and killed a werewolf,” Hanzo tried to remark dryly, but ended but just sounding impressed instead.

 

“I’m afraid your source is just trying to lure McCree out with your paper, Miss Zhou,” Hanzo said. “Please, putting a man’s life in danger for a paper is not what you approve of.”

 

McCree never heard Hanzo said please before, and stared blankly at all the papers Miss Zhou was looking over. All the evidence and information gathered without McCree knowing, in two days, just to keep McCree safe – McCree turned to look at Hanzo.

 

Hanzo caught his eyes. Neither said anything. McCree felt as though he would burn right up.

 

“Darn it,” Zhou took off her glasses and palmed her eyes. “I worked really hard on this research.”

 

“Why am I in it?” McCree asked, after Hanzo tore his gaze away.

 

“It’s about the climbing numbers of humans and monster encounters that resulted in humans killing monsters,” Zhou said. “Of course, you wouldn’t get into trouble. The authorities all knew it was the werewolf who attacked you first, and the local guards are accountable for it. My source said he was with the government, and it was necessary to not omit any known facts in case of confusion.”

 

“Sounds fishy,” McCree grumbled.

 

“Monsters laws are always changing, I can never keep up with it.”

 

“Why – wait, are you not –?”

 

“Me? No, I’m human, just with special permission for research,” Zhou smiled. “Took me ten years to get it. It was worth it.”

 

Hanzo coughed before McCree could ask any more questions, “So, will you leave out Jesse’s name, and perhaps report your source to the authorities?”

 

Zhou sighed. “This will get me into so much trouble...my confidentiality will be questioned.”

 

“Yes, it will,” Hanzo replied. “But you’re a scientist, a very renowned one, too. Don’t – ”

 

“ –Get information from shady people again,” Zhou grinned. “Of course. I will ask Dr. Ziegler for advice on this matter, but you have my words,” she offered her hand.

 

Hanzo took her hand in his, and they stared at the other’s eyes for a long moment. Finally Zhou spoke again, “I will not compromise Jesse McCree’s safety.”

 

Hanzo’s grip tightened. Zhou laughed. “Now or ever.”

 

Blue lightening flickered across their joint hands, from Hanzo’s to Zhou’s. With a final shake, they released each other.

 

“Thank you,” Hanzo stood. McCree took it as his cue to stand as well. “If you need anything for your experiments, please do not hesitate to ask.”

 

Zhou grinned. “Since you offered,” she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small scrap of paper. Hanzo took it and glanced at the listed items. McCree could not understand any of the words, but Hanzo sighed, and said, “Of course you would want these.”

 

Zhou clapped Hanzo on the arm. “Thanks so much! Always good to see you.”

 

Hanzo turned to leave. McCree lingered behind.

 

“Thank you, Miss Zhou,” McCree stuck out his hand for a final handshake. “I think you saved my skin.”

 

“Aw, I think it was Hanzo,” she smiled. “And call me Mei. I hope to see you two again sometime, for a proper tea.”

 

McCree grinned, and tipped his hat.

 

Outside, Hanzo was waiting on the sidewalk in the freezing air. McCree joined him, and lit up a smoke.

 

He offered it to Hanzo, and Hanzo took a drag – without taking the cigarillo. McCree held the smoke as steady as he could.

 

Hanzo backed away. He didn’t let the smoke out, swallowing it all.

 

McCree let the cigarillo hang from his fingers, looking up at the scatters of stars. He felt as though he was one of them, buoyed by the gentle, comfortable, and ubiquitous darkness.

 

Darkness wasn’t something to be afraid of, McCree thought as he looked over to Hanzo, all dark hair deep skin and darker temper. It made McCree felt safer than any light could be.  

 

“Thank you, for what you did,” McCree felt the burn to his fingertips, but paid no mind to it.

 

Hanzo took the smoke from McCree and dusted the ashes away. “It is nothing.”

 

McCree’s fingers gently touched Hanzo’s, caressed it. Hanzo leaned into the touch, and McCree grabbed Hanzo’s fingertips, hesitantly, lightly.

 

McCree dropped his forehead to rest on Hanzo’s crown, closed his eyes, and enjoy the fall. “It’s everything.”


	6. Day 6: Water

When McCree first saw it, he was half asleep, in his shared room with Hanzo on the underwater level of a ship to Germany. Half the ship’s bottom was below sea level, so travelers could see the deep sea as they cross the ocean. Hanzo and his room were in this part, well-beneath the surface where any natural light source could reach them.

 

Their room was dark during the night, so actually, he heard it before anything: a faint scratching sound alongside the ship, too faint for human’s ears. Might even be too low for Hanzo to hear (he was still deep in sleep, wasn’t he?). At first, McCree didn’t pay it any mind. The porthole for window looked out into the deep sea, at night you could barely see anything unless you turned the outside lights on. And the sound of water drifting past the ship was always mixed with strange, unexplained noises that made McCree so uneasy Hanzo had told him to just leave it because _they were underwater, what did he expect?_

 

McCree wasn’t expecting much, not after seeing some mermaids chewing on fish bones and flipping him off when he first boarded the ship.

 

Therefore, it was safe to say he also did not expect to be woken up by a strange, faint, scratching noise just outside their room. It was probably just the ship scraping over some rocks, McCree snuggled into the blankets, trying to block out that noise.

 

But his ears would not rest. His stupid wolf instinct was telling him there was something unnatural about that scratching sound, it was too mechanical, too patterned.

 

McCree gave up on sleeping and roll onto his back, ears straining for the sound.

 

It started from below them – below the window – and trailed upwards, then down again. Repeated, down, up, up and finally – stopped outside of their window.

 

McCree slowly turned to the porthole, but he could only see the pitch black of the sea. His thumb trailed to the switch that would light up a small lantern on the outside, and contemplating if he was actually that curious.

 

Finally, he flicked the switch.

 

There was a thing about werewolves, Hanzo said it was an excellent survival ability, and McCree would argue it was a damn nuisance. When a werewolf gets shocked, hurt, or angered, their senses would heighten. Every little sound, image, feelings would intensify. A threat would seem larger, sound louder, and give ten times the fright.

 

So when McCree made the bad decision of turning on the light and saw what was lurking outside of their window, he screamed, then howled as he unconsciously transformed, vaulted across the room and straight into Hanzo’s bed, taking the demon with him to the ground.

 

If Hanzo thought it was an attack and tried to grab his weapon, he didn’t have the space to do so with McCree burrowing into Hanzo’s arms as if his life depended on it.

 

Hanzo grunted, and tried to shove McCree away. The wolf whimpered. Hanzo’s whole body lost its tension, and resolved into lying motionless on the ground and let McCree do whatever he wished with him (curling his face into Hanzo’s stomach).

 

“Please tell me you didn’t have a nightmare. Last time I recalled you are a thirty-seven-year-old man,” Hanzo said pensively.

 

McCree decided it was an event best told in actual words. He released Hanzo and helped him up, peeking over the edge of Hanzo’s bed at the porthole. Hanzo joined him, albeit not peeking like he was.

 

“What are we looking at?” Hanzo asked.

 

“Well, it’s gone now,” McCree sighed in relief. “Lord, I thought I was having a seizure.”

 

“Out of nowhere?” Hanzo asked. “Are you all right?”

 

“No, it’s – I saw something – where the fuck are we?” McCree asked angrily.

 

“Currently? In our room.”

 

“No, you fuck turd, in the world!”

 

Hanzo shot McCree an unimpressed look for his grad school level name-calling. “Around Denmark.”

 

“And is there some fucked up creatures around the Danish sea?”

 

“What did you see?”

 

“I don’t know –! Something fucked up!”

 

Hanzo brushed his loose hair back from his face. “Get back to bed, McCree.”

 

“Fine, you switch beds with me.”

 

Too tired to argue, or just not in the mood for arguing, Hanzo silently climbed into McCree’s bed, and McCree into Hanzo’s. He lay on his side, facing Hanzo.

 

“If it shows up again, I’m shooting it,” he said to Hanzo.

 

Hanzo chuckled. “I think that’ll be a problem, considering we’re underwater.”

 

McCree was about to reply when the noises happened again. His mouth shut with an audible click. Hanzo turned away from McCree to look at the window.

 

This time, at least, McCree was prepared. So when it slowly climbed into view McCree wasn’t overwhelmed.

 

It was ugly, with rotting, black face and teeth that were too sharp and too large for such a face. One of its eyes were drooping, and its mouth was stretched into a perpetual smile.

 

Hanzo glanced at it for one second and turned to inform McCree, “It’s a sea monk.”

 

“A _what_?!” McCree looked at that grinning abomination again, and almost refused to believe that the thing that scared him out of his wits would have such a name.

 

“Sea monk. A race of mutated merepeople. They are no harm to us, and they don’t have a brain.”

 

“If they don’t have a brain, why is this one fucking with me all night?!”

 

Hanzo smirked, and that ground McCree’s gears more than that thing drifting outside the window did. “I said they don’t have a brain, not that they don’t have a sense of humor.”

 

McCree gaped at Hanzo, then at that thing outside, then back to Hanzo. “I – you know what, fuck y’all. I’m going to bed.”

 

Hanzo laughed, and laughed even harder when McCree couldn’t take the pressure of that thing staring, and went to cover the window with his serape.

 

Then, without a word, McCree climbed into the bed Hanzo was in.

 

Hanzo was still laughing, and made space for McCree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A [Sea Monk](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sea_monk) (the wiki page does have a picture of it, it's not particular scary, but just a warning if some people doesn't like this sort of things) : a sea creature found in the coast of Zealand in 1546. Though it is believed it was just a angelshark or squid mistaken by sailors.


	7. Day 7: Confusion

Ana Amari was a graceful and stately woman that, if McCree hadn’t known from Hanzo beforehand, he would never have thought she was part of their world. She wore a perfectly fitted dress and a hijab with intricate runes stitched onto. A pleasant and polite smile. A sharp eye used not for sight, but discernment that McCree rarely encounter in people.

 

Ana ran a bakery in a small town with her partner Reinhardt, a huge man with half giant gene and half pure goodness in his blood, remarked Ana, and agreed by Hanzo, which earned an impressed look from McCree.

 

“It’s lovely to meet you both,” McCree shook hands with them, accepted Ana’s tea and Reinhardt’s cake. Hanzo sat quietly beside him.

 

“I’m surprised to see you visiting Germany,” Ana said.

 

“Why?”

 

“Well – Genji and Zenyatta are always around here somewhere this time of year.”

 

McCree perked up at the names, but his face remained impassive. Too many times he had heard “Genji” in passing conversation, and always never an answer.

 

“Yes,” Hanzo’s voice was even and cool. “They’re in East Germany right now, far away from here.”

 

Ana arched an eyebrow at Hanzo, hiding a smile behind her teacup. Hanzo groaned.

 

“They’re on their way here, aren’t they?”

 

“I’m afraid so,” Ana laughed good-naturedly at Hanzo’s distress. “Send a message to me as soon as they found out you were coming. They’ll be here by tomorrow, if they’re quick.”

 

“And they always are!” Boomed Reinhardt, laughing along with Ana.

 

McCree said nothing, but his inside was practically bursting from amusement and anticipation. Hanzo gave him a look. McCree managed a very guileless and sweet smile.

 

“Don’t think I can’t tell that you’re enjoying this,” Hanzo said dryly and without menace.

 

McCree put his hand on his chest. “Why, I never!”

 

Hanzo smiled and took another sip of tea.

 

After that, Reinhardt gave Ana a kiss on the cheek and left to open the bakery they used as a front but was more successful than their real business. McCree helped with the cleaning up without prompting, and earned a fond pat from their hostess.

 

“Suck-up,” Hanzo whispered as they followed Ana into the back of the store.

 

“I would say ‘charmer’ but I also won’t object to that,” McCree winked. Hanzo backhanded him on the chest. Hanzo’s knuckles made contact with McCree’s chest plate.

 

“Hey! That’s gonna leave a dent,” McCree returned with a light smack on Hanzo’s bicep.

 

“And that,” Hanzo pinched McCree’s ear. “Is going to leave a bruise.”

 

“Boys, please,” Ana said. They finally realized they were loitering far behind, and she was waiting in a doorway with an amused expression.

 

“Sorry,” they replied together.

 

Ana’s laboratory was nothing like what McCree thought an alchemist’s workplace would look like – and yet, as he examined a row of small flasks with tiny, not fully grown people in it – it was also like everything he imagined.

 

“Homunculus,” Hanzo said, sliding into the spot next to McCree. “Don’t ask how they’re made.”

 

McCree’s lips twitched. “Okay.”

 

Ana was looking at them thoughtfully, and that hint of amusement never left her eyes. “All right,” she said. “Let us get to business. May I?”

 

McCree nodded, and Ana gently took his stump into her hands. She massaged it, looked at it from different angles, and made some notes.

 

“Didn’t keep the arm?” Ana asked.

 

“No, ma’am.”

 

Ana hummed. “Next time you get something cut off, remember to keep the limb.”

 

McCree laughed uncomfortably.

 

“It’s as I expected,” Ana sighed. “I cannot recover your arm. We still don’t know how to make flesh out of nothing, as you can see,” she waved at the homunculi. “There are spells, but nothing permanent.”

 

McCree nodded. He was half expecting this outcome, anyways.

 

“So, I can’t give you a flesh arm, but,” Ana opened a book. “How about a metal arm?”

 

McCree’s eyebrows shot up. “That sounds great,” he said. “Can I shoot bullets out of it?”

 

Ana laughed. “We’ll see,” she said, flipping through the book.

 

“Is that like your alchemist instructions on how to create a metal arm?” McCree asked, interested.

 

“Hm? No,” Ana picked up her phone. “This is my contact book, I’m calling a prosthetic maker.”

 

McCree sat back, pouting.

 

The prosthetic maker said she could have the order done in two days. Ana offered a spared bedroom for the two men, but they politely declined. An appointment was scheduled in two days. Ana gave McCree a bottle of ointment, and said he should apply it every morning and night on his left arm.

 

The rest of the day was spent in sightseeing, or the attempt of it. McCree was jittery and absent-minded. Kept rubbing at his left arm when he thought Hanzo wasn’t looking.  

 

“Are you nervous?” Hanzo grabbed McCree’s arm. McCree started.

 

“Uh, yes,” McCree grinned, although it was strained. “Don’t I have a right to be so?”

 

“Did not say you didn’t.”

 

Hanzo then decided it was perhaps a better idea to buy some beers and just turn in for the night. An idea which McCree gladly agreed to, mood lifted by the promise of alcohol.

 

Except that plan was ruined as soon as they stepped into their hotel room, and found two people sitting on their beds, playing Go Fish.

 

McCree’s hand immediately snapped to his gun, while Hanzo only glared.

 

“Brother!” The one on McCree’s bed gave them a two finger wave. “So nice to see you.”

 

“Doubt it,” Hanzo grunted. “Hello, Zenyatta.”

 

The one sitting on Hanzo’s bed greeted them serenely. The tentacles on its face curled upwards as though they were waving.

 

“Aw, don’t be nervous,” the-one-that-was-not-Zenyatta hopped off the bed and sauntered to McCree. “You can take your finger off the trigger.”

 

McCree did not. “Why don’t you start by taking off that mask.”

 

The monster laughed, turning towards Hanzo. “I can see the appeal.”

 

Hanzo set the drinks down on the coffee table and offered no response. The masked man didn’t seem to care.

 

He pushed the mask up, revealing a pair of eyes that were shockingly similar to McCree’s red. They were deeper, and motionless where McCree’s own were mixed with glints of gold. McCree knew who he was. It was just difficult for him to break out of his state of alarm after seeing two unexpected guests, even if they’re Hanzo’s family.

 

“I’m Genji,” he said, scarred lips stretched to its max to form a grin.

 

McCree’s fingers finally relent, and he offered a smile of his own. “Name’s McCree.”

 

“I’ve heard stuff about you,” Genji said. “About you and Hanzo, actually. He doesn’t usually travel with…anyone.”

 

Hanzo sighed. “Don’t people have better things to talk about?”

 

“Not when Shimada Hanzo got himself a partner,” Genji swung around on the ball of his feet to face Hanzo. His katana almost hitting McCree’s private parts. McCree stepped away from the area of attack and joined Hanzo. Genji cocked his head at them.

 

“Funny,” he said, grinning. “You’re funny, brother.”

 

“ _Why_ are you here, Genji?”

 

“Just wanted to chat. I’ve been chatting to a lot of people lately. Angela, Mei, Ms. Amari…”

 

“You are insufferable,” Hanzo scowled.

 

“Isn’t that why you keep me around?”

 

Hanzo moped in the corner of the room. McCree flashed Genji a grin: he’d never seen Hanzo get this irritated this quickly before, he should get some pointers.

 

Genji walked to Hanzo. “Are you finished sulking?”

 

“I supposed so,” Hanzo said grudgingly.

 

Genji rolled his eyes at the room. “I do have stuff I need to discuss with you, get out here.”

 

Then in a blurry black and red, he was out of the window. Hanzo massaged his temple, and followed.

 

McCree stared. “I don’t remember there being any ledges outside.”

 

The eyeballs around Zenyatta squinted in mirth as the monster picked up a can and offered it to McCree. “Beer?”

 

Above them, on the rooftop in a dramatic moonlit corner where only the brothers would have the haughtiness to choose to have a chat in, Genji and Hanzo stood facing each other as if in a duel.

 

“Calm down, brother dear,” Genji laughed. “You always assume I’m going to tease you.”

 

“Are you not?”

 

“Well, yeah, but that’ not the main reason I came.”

 

“Please tell.”

 

“This is sort of a big favor,” Genji said. “I need one of your dragons.”

 

Hanzo threw his head back with a groan. “What did you do to yours?”

 

“Nothing, fuck off,” Genji stepped towards Hanzo. “We’re traveling to a small island near Japan in a few days, and the deity there are benevolent, and treat our kind well, but they don’t really care about protecting guests. The gods are kind, but fuck, do the demons there suck.”

  
  
“You would know.”

  
  
“Brother, please,” Genji sighed. “I hope to ask help from one of your dragons to offer some extra protection for Zenyatta. I will be separated from him for a while there and he’s not particularly liked by some monsters.”

  
  
“I trust Zenyatta to take care of himself.”

  
  
“And for yours? Mr. Cowboy seems perfectly deadly to me,” Genji remarked. “He _did_ kill a werewolf while half-dead, did he not?”

  
  
“ _I_ don’t have my dragon follow him like a guard dog.”

  
  
“Yes, but don’t think I don’t see that little obstruction hex you have put on him. So that no one would recognize him, right?”

  
  
“It’s only until people stop looking for him –”

  
  
“Possessive,” Genji tsked. “Protective. We are prone to this vice for people we like. So will you lend me your dragon, brother?”

  
  
“Of course I will. I just did not want to make it easy for you.”

 

“I would say you were the one that was embarrassed.”

  
  
“Drop it.”

 

“So how long has it been for you two?”

 

Hanzo grimaced. “It’s not like that.”

 

Genji arched an eyebrow. “Really? With you so eager to keep him safe and with his scent all over you?”

 

“I don’t – he’s been through a lot, and he’s forced into a world he wanted no part in.” Hanzo looked at Genji, with his scarred face and red eyes that Ana made him, his broken horns, Hanzo shrunk into himself. “There’s monsters, and there are _monsters_ , Genji. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do that to him.”

 

Genji was silent.

 

“I think it’s too late, Hanzo,” Genji leaped onto the edge of the rooftop. “Most people have a past that makes them feel unworthy, but that doesn’t mean other people would feel the same.”

 

Genji crouched at the edge, looking over to the building across, where McCree and Zenyatta sat. “Just be careful with him.”

 

Genji slashed through the air, disappeared, leaving Hanzo spiraling into turbulence that he thought he had long forgotten.  


	8. Day 8: Impasse

McCree’s new arm was sturdy, inhumanly strong and responded to him like any real limb arm did. Too well, in fact. It was always quicker than the rest of his body. Sometimes, after too many incidents of knocking things over or breaking doorknobs while trying to be polite, McCree would take off the arm.

 

Hanzo would find him, sitting in whatever lodges they occupied at the moment, staring at the prosthetic ruefully, making the fingers move.

 

If McCree noticed Hanzo, he would force a smile, and make the prosthetic flip Hanzo off. If he didn’t notice Hanzo, however, McCree would stay like that until Hanzo made himself known.

 

The part of him that connected metal to nerves ached often, but it was the distractions it caused that irked McCree more. Shooting became harder than when he had only one arm. Headaches, lightheadedness, short temper. He was feeling increasingly like a burden, and _that_ , was taking the worse toll of all.

 

And damn Hanzo, McCree could never read him. He didn’t know if it was because of the lack of pupils, the lack of words, or just the lack of patience on McCree’s part. He would never offer McCree help when he was struggling, but at the end of the day, Hanzo always took McCree’s arm in his hands, and gently massaged it until the pain was dulled enough for McCree to fall asleep.

 

McCree was a proud man, and Hanzo understood that. He knew when to let McCree handle himself and when to step in, and all just drew McCree closer to Hanzo at the end. McCree was falling, and he did not want it to stop.

 

“Have I ever said thank you for all this?” McCree asked one evening, when both men were enjoying a quiet dinner. Wine, some roast chicken and rabbit from the result of a competition hunt between them, and steamed bell peppers.

 

“I recall you expressing it many times.”

 

“Those were ‘thanks man’, and ‘appreciated it’” McCree smiled. “Have I ever sat you down, look you in the eye, and say ‘Thank you’?”

 

“You _have_ – ”

 

McCree took Hanzo’s hand in his, enveloping them. Hanzo’s face was lowered. McCree nosed at his forehead until he lifted his face up.

 

“Hanzo,” McCree said, still close, now quiet. “Thank you.”

 

Hanzo leaned up, returning the gesture. Their breath hit each other’s cheeks. McCree’s lips parted slightly, grazing over Hanzo’s skin.

 

Hanzo let out a sigh.

 

He was aching to get closer. McCree swayed in his seat, lightheaded, overwhelmed by the closeness. His lips edged closer.

 

“Hanzo…”

 

In response, Hanzo sighed again. Heartrending. Plaintive. Enough for McCree to draw back in alarm.

 

Hanzo turned away, face blank. His hands slipped from McCree’s.

 

He should have seen this coming. McCree sat back, rubbing his aching arm. Falling first never did anyone any good.


	9. Day 9: Strings

It would be his luck, that during one of their jobs McCree would get tied up and left to die on a cliff side. McCree should have gotten used to these sorts of dramatic killing method (he was traveling with Hanzo, after all). The hunter patted his cheek, and if McCree wasn’t all drugged up, the man’s fingers would be digesting in his stomach by now. All he could let out was a low growl as the hunter tightened the rope around him.

 

“Now, stay here like a good boy,” the hunter laughed maniacally, caught up in his own little joke. McCree looked at him ludicrously. The hunter kept laughing, “Get it? Because you’re a dog? I should really get into the comedy business.”

 

“Why don’t you let me go and you can peruse your dream?” McCree murmured weakly. Luckily the man had sharp ears.

 

“Naw, mate. I said I’ll be good at it, not that it’s my dream,” the hunter grinned. “Now my dream is that delicious sixty-five million bounty you have for your handsome face. But I gotta take care of your friend first.” He loaded this gun, juggling the bullets like a madman. “You just ‘hang here’,”

 

McCree waited another minute for the man to catch his breath, face blank as though he wished for death itself to arrive before he combusted from stupid jokes. The hunter finally continued, “If you fall, then fine. I’ll only get half the money, but whatever.”

 

The man waved good-bye cheerfully as he limped away. McCree suspected Hanzo would kill that scrawny hunter before he even reached Hanzo. Killed by an arrow almost as skinny as the hunter was, from a hundred miles away.

 

McCree just had to hang tight, and wait for the drug to wear off. McCree let his head fell and sighed, _like a good boy._

It was approximately an hour later, when he heard the first crack. Snapped from his clouded mind, McCree groaned at the intense headache and wondered not for the first time how much drug was put in his system.

 

He heard another crack, and looked up. The tree branch that was holding him now had a telltale crack on it, and widening by the seconds.

 

McCree groaned, shaking his head to wake himself up, but his body wasn’t responding. Of course he would die like this. He could imagine his tombstone: _Jesse McCree, died because he was too damn heavy._

_Except there won’t be anything giving you a proper burial._ Jesse thought, well, that was depressing.

 

Maybe he could stay very, very still, until he gained back his strength or until Hanzo finds him, whichever came fir–

 

And with that, the branch broke.

 

McCree let out a slight humph of displeasure as he plunged towards a certain death he never thought would happen to him. Maybe he could transform now and hope for the best, but none of his muscles were responding.

 

_Damn it._ McCree’s eyes watered from the bright blue sky, and he shut them. _Damn. It. Hanzo –_

 

A rock hit his face. A gush of dust made him sneeze. McCree opened his eyes, and saw an enormous figure plunging down the cliff, faster than McCree was falling.

 

McCree’s wind was knocked out of him as Hanzo’s arm circled around his torso and his talons sunk into the bluff. Rocks and dirt spewed out, hitting them. McCree coughed, and Hanzo turned his back against the cliff, shielding McCree.

 

Finally, they came to a stop. McCree dizzily buried his face into Hanzo’s shoulder. It felt bigger than usual.

 

“Are you well?” Hanzo asked. McCree sneezed, and nodded.

 

“Hold on, then,” Hanzo said.

 

“I’ll try,” McCree replied.

 

With one heave, Hanzo shot up. Then he dug his clawed feet into the dirt, heaving them up again. Then another with his unoccupied hand. It felt a lot shorter than the fall when Hanzo sat McCree down, a safe distance from the edge.

 

McCree wheezed, and finally got a good look at Hanzo. Twice as big, long horns sprouting on his forehead. Canine growing past his lips, and many more rows of sharp teeth in his mouth than McCree had remembered.

 

Hanzo was panting, elbow settled on one raised knee. There was a large burn wound on his chest, still bleeding. McCree reached up, but his hand was pushed back down by Hanzo.

 

“Rest,” Hanzo said. A low, freezing breath came out of his parted lips. “We have company.”

 

McCree looked past Hanzo, and saw his kidnapper jogging towards them, panting like a dog.

 

“Oi!” The hunter yelled. “You can’t just run off during a fight! That’s not polite!”

 

Hanzo stood, as if to greet him. The minute the hunter came into reaching distant, Hanzo grabbed him by the head.

 

“Hey – hey!” He yelped. “What – ”

 

Hanzo walked to the edge of the cliff, dangling the man over it. The hunter chuckled nervously.

 

“I don’t suppose we can make a deal?” He said.

 

Hanzo’s grip loosened ever so slightly. Then a chain whipped past him, hooking onto the hunter, and dragged him back.

 

Both McCree and Hanzo turned to follow him, and saw a humongous monster sanding threateningly, with the hunter now by his feet.

 

“Roadie,” the hunter moaned. “That hurt.”

 

“Shut up, Junkrat,” the monster growled, and aimed his gun at Hanzo.

 

Hanzo’s fists tighten and stood his full height. The monster didn’t seem to be afraid of it, though his companion scrambled to hide behind the monster.

 

Another growl rang out, lower, more gravelly. A monstrous wolf appeared beside Hanzo, bearing his teeth. Eyes shining ferociously with rancor.

 

Three tremendous figures, towering over a stick of a man, as he tried to hide under his arms to no avail.

 

“Roadie, I think this was a shit of an idea, why don’t we just leave, No hard feeling, yeah?”

 

“Shut up, Junkrat,” the monster said again, but he did start to back away, gun still pointed at Hanzo and McCree. His other hand, gripping the hook, ready to throw again if they dare move.

 

“Nice meeting you lads!” The hunter shouted, and received a warning look from the monster. He scrambled away, and the monster followed.

 

McCree legs gave out that instant. Hanzo slowly sat next to him, checking for wounds.

 

“Drink this, it’ll help the drug to wear out faster.”

 

McCree let Hanzo drip a few drops of clear, insipid liquid in his mouth.

 

“I’m glad to see that prosthetic working well in this form too,” Hanzo murmured.

 

McCree lifted his metal paw up, a perfect match with the rest of his legs, and put it on Hanzo’s knee. He sniffed at Hanzo’s wound, and whined.

 

“It is healing already,” Hanzo assured.

 

McCree’s tongue darted out, and back again. If he was in his human form, McCree would be flushed from ear to chest. He almost licked Hanzo’s wound – an unconscious reaction, he swore to no one, and sat there looking at Hanzo awkwardly.

 

Hanzo was still in his enormous, frightening form, but McCree saw no differences. He was still very much the monster that saved him countless times, and his heart soar and burned in one same painful moment.

 

Hanzo stood. McCree straightened. Neither said anything more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was taken very loosely, not because I enjoy having McCree being saved though! (I do enjoy it)


	10. Day 10: Honor

A buck’s head. Its beady black eyes stuck in perpetual emptiness. Hundreds of them decorated the wall of their clients. McCree understood the appeal of the hunt, but never the storage of corpses.

 

The client was babbling about some Tripodero that was eating all the animals in the nearby forest, and if it was eating all of the games, how was _he_ supposed to kill them?

 

Hanzo listened with an air of disdain, but since his face had always been stuck in a never-ending loop of scowl and blankness, McCree doubted the client even noticed.

 

When Hanzo said they would consider the job, McCree frowned and pulled him aside.

 

“We’re not really gonna kill some monsters that’s just hunting for survival, are we?”

 

Hanzo huffed. “Of course not. I was just going to trap it and move it to another safer forest and lie to him about killing it.”

 

McCree blinked. “Oh, okay.”

 

“Do you not like this idea?”

 

“No, no…you just usually outright decline cases like these, that’s all. Are you short on money?”

 

Hanzo bristled. “I am _not_ – ”

 

“I was just asking, it’s not an insult!” McCree backed away, wrapped his serape tightly around his face. “Spend half of my life living on twenty dollars, it ain’t a big deal.”

 

It was apparently the wrong thing to say. Hanzo left without waiting nor replying. McCree felt a numbness that crept in from time to time when Hanzo acted like this. It agonized him, feeling the distances that suddenly separated them. The job was quick, and without a word said.

 

Sleeping as a wolf was quite cozy, if McCree was honest with himself. He was spending more and more time as it, so that he could blame the silence on his inability to talk. Sometimes Hanzo would turn around, mouth half-forming a word, then realized McCree trotting behind him.

 

He would turn back without saying whatever he had meant to say, and McCree would pretend he never saw it.

 

McCree hated himself for making advances, for thinking he was any good as a partner – a man with a tattered past, with no prospect of a future. Who was just lucky and happened to have a way with killing.

 

Hell, Hanzo didn’t even know his real name. McCree whined lowly, like a wounded animal at the thought, and masked it as a cough when Hanzo snapped his head to look at him.

 

But they were still working as a team, and that was killing McCree the most. If they weren’t talking, hardly acknowledging each other, what was the point of traveling with someone worth talking to? McCree hated the idea of himself as a puppy, following Hanzo to wherever he went, but that was the image he saw when he looked at Hanzo now. Dependent. Incapable. Worse for wear.

 

Companionship always needed a resolute heart to survive. McCree wasn’t sure he had one.

 

He mentioned it once to Hanzo. Too subtle. Hanzo had not understood his meaning. The second time, McCree choked on his own words. The third time, Hanzo’s hands dropped to his sides.

 

“You’re leaving?” Hanzo asked. McCree shrugged.

 

“Thought it might be better,” he said. “I’ll go clear out some of the hunters after me, y’know? So they stop bothering us – you.”

 

“We never had a problem with them before,” Hanzo argued. His words hard.

 

“That’s now. Once summer hits, it’ll be easier for them to track down a werewolf, right? You said so.”

 

“I did not mean that so you would _leave_.”

 

“It’s all right, Hanzo,” McCree grinned, even though his eyes stung, and everything seemed darker, larger, and heavier. “You helped me so much already.”

 

Hanzo’s mouth opened and shut. His teeth started sharpening.

 

McCree offered his hand. “You are an honorable man, Hanzo. I don’t think I can ever thank you enough.”

 

Hanzo stared at McCree’s hand. Flesh, without glove. There was a scar on there, Hanzo’s talons accidentally scratched him when he grabbed McCree’s hand while escaping during one of their jobs.

 

He took it.

 

McCree walked and walked, and walked to try and outrun the scent of Hanzo that seemed to linger for miles. Until his feet swollen and blistered. Then he realized the scent he was running from was on him all along.


	11. Day 11: Seasons

“How’s your arm?”

 

For a moment, McCree almost reached out to grab Ana’s hand. He sucked in a deep breath, blinking the image of Hanzo reaching for him away. _How is your arm, McCree? Don’t worry about it, honeybee. Don’t call me that –_

“Hasn’t hurt for two months,” he grinned, toasting his glass to her. “Thanks to you, ma’am.”

 

“‘Ma’am’,” Ana chuckled. “Nobody calls me that, you know?”

 

“I’m calling you that now.”

 

“I can call you ma’am too, if you like,” Reinhardt cheerfully chirped in. Ana fixed a fond look on him.

 

“As if I would want you to call me anything other than darling.”

 

Reinhardt boomed with laughter. McCree sneaked his glass of bourbon away from the table before the shaking broke his glass and therefore his heart. “It is wonderful to see a familiar face here, Jesse!”  

 

“And what are you two doing here?” McCree asked. “Can’t believe I forgot to ask.”

 

“Too happy seeing our faces, I presume,” Ana said. McCree raised his glass and agreed. “Reinhardt wants to see a particular flower that grows once every twenty years in a field around here. Maybe I could sample some and grow it back home.”

 

“Darling, you don’t have to!”

 

“I want to, and I will.”

 

“Aren’t you two the sweetest things in the world,” McCree said, ordering another drink. He would need it at this rate.

 

“I heard you had been getting your life back?” Ana asked after Reinhardt finally released her from a fervent attack of kisses. “By killing?”

 

“Myself,” McCree clarified. “Just erasing any evidence that might suggest I survived the attack. At least humans wouldn’t be looking for me now.”

 

“Some still might,” Reinhardt warned.

 

“Some might,” McCree agreed. “But don’t we all have people chasing after us?”

 

“We’ve both been alive too long for that. People who used to hate us are dead!” Reinhardt said.

 

“Most of them, anyway,” Ana added.

 

McCree was momentarily distracted by the live play the pub provided. The group of actors proclaiming their lines loudly on stage. A French comedy, McCree remembered. Patrons were laughing as a servant girl chew out her master.  

 

Ana fixed him with a knowing expression, her words cut deep, “Why are you alone?”

 

McCree drummed his metal fingers on the table. Two actresses argued on stage. “Come alive!” She declared. “Love needs a resolute heart to survive.” McCree turned away from the play to face Ana.

 

“I needed to do this,” McCree said. “I needed to fix my life myself in this new world. Figuring shit out, fucking up and mending it. Or else I’m stuck being guided everywhere and I will die from it one day.”

 

His companion was silent, but Reinhardt was smiling at him proudly; Ana, a little wistfully.   

 

“I see,” she said. “I just hope you boys could patch things up, then.”

 

“We didn’t part on bad terms,” McCree frowned. “We even kept in contact – ”

 

“Call it an old woman’s worry,” Ana sipped her absinth like it was the finest wine. “But I don’t think you two really know how to go about handling your feelings.”

 

McCree was ready to retort, but Reinhardt checked his watch and reminded Ana they have a long day tomorrow. Ana downed her glass in one go. Reinhardt looked at her with awe, and McCree stared in horror.

 

“I hope you won’t leave without seeing us again, McCree,” Ana said, fanning herself. “It is hot, is it not?”

 

“Summer is officially here, darling,” Reinhardt waved goodbye. Ana patted McCree on the back.

 

The temperature brought forth pleasant memories, unwanted at the moment. Hanzo and he met in the summer, the first time since he became a werewolf he felt as though he would kill someone.

 

McCree grinned into his drink. God, Hanzo was such a piece of work when they first met, he couldn’t stop smiling thinking about it.

 

Finishing the last of his drink, McCree paid and clapped along with the audience of the play. The hypocrite had been outed, and the lovers reunited.

 

McCree left the cheers behind, lighting a cigarillo in the dark stretch of night. From afar he saw a pair of white and a pair of red lights coming closer, wondering if it was some sort of ghosts.

 

The fruity scent of this new brand of cigarillos made the back of McCree’s throat sting more than the usual smoke. He lifted his serape and coughed into it, letting out a disgusted huff.

 

The two ghosts stopped dead in their tracks. McCree sniffed the air – everything smells like damn fruit now….

 

“McCree?”

 

He peered out under his hat, and immediately took it off. Mouth hung open, hat pressed to his chest, McCree stared.

 

“Damn,” Genji said. “What a reunion.”

 

Hanzo and McCree nodded at the same time, neither said anything for the first few minutes of staring. Genji shifted uncomfortably.

 

“What brings you here?” Genji asked when it was clear no one was going to say anything. McCree blinked, turned to Genji.

 

“What?”

 

Genji sighed. “Good Lord. I asked, what brings you here?”

 

“Just passing by….”

 

Genji did not continue. He did, however, shoved Hanzo lightly. Hanzo held his ground.

 

Hanzo coughed. “Just passing by?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“For how long?”

 

“Dunno.”

 

“Your hair has grown.”

 

McCree touched his short ponytail self-consciously. “Didn’t have time to go to a barber.”

 

“It looks…” Hanzo trailed off. “Genji and I are here for a friend’s favor. A few days.”

 

“Oh!” McCree smiled. His hat squashed between his hand and beating heart. “I don’t suppose you – you two would have time for some drinks later, then?”

 

“We do!” Genji answered “Hanzo definitely does, anyway. Tomorrow, here, same time?”

 

McCree stared at Genji, then back to Hanzo, dumbfounded at first. “Yes, that works.”

 

“Great,” Genji poked Hanzo. “We’re late, brother. Let’s go, you will see him tomorrow.”

 

“Yes,” Hanzo said, though he made no move to leave. Not until McCree smiled again, walked closer.

 

“I’m happy to see you,” McCree said. His senses intensify as he took in everything. Hanzo smelled different, certainly devoid of stupid fruit smells. McCree liked it.

 

“Yes,” Hanzo repeated. “I am…thrilled to see you as well.”

 

“Well, I won’t hold you up.” McCree continued to smile. “See you tomorrow?”

 

Hanzo nodded, and let him be led away by Genji. The pair quickly walked away, but their voices lingered. Genji’s sardonic comment drifted back to McCree’s ear: _Look at you melt, brother!_

 


	12. Day 12: Instrument

After Hanzo and Genji left, McCree darted back into the bar and caught the barkeep as he was trying to break up a fight between a kappa and a siren. One of the barkeep’s heads tried to snap McCree’s fingers off when McCree tried to get his attention.

 

“What do you want?” The lizard head said. “Can’t you see we’re busy?”

 

“What do you need?” The dog head said, more politely.

 

“Those private booths you have in the back, do you still have free ones for tomorrow night?” McCree asked.

 

“The day before? Sorry, dude,” the dog head said.

 

“Please, I have an important – ” A scream from the kappa cut McCree off, the ears of the bog head pressed back from the shrill noise. “ – An important meeting tomorrow – ”

 

McCree got interrupted again when the siren tried to grab the head of the barkeep that was trying to assuage the two customers. She managed to grab the trunk of the head and yanked it hard.

 

“Hey, hey, _hey_!” McCree stepped in instantly, pushing both the kappa and the siren back to their seat. The elephant head shrieked in pain as the other two heads asked if she was okay. “Just because you fucking paid doesn’t mean you run this place. You’re both horrible monsters, you lure people to their deaths. What’s there to fight about, for god’s sake!”

 

They opened their beaks to retort, but McCree grabbed and shoved them towards the door. “Out!”

 

“But – my drink,” the kappa tried to reach over McCree.

 

“Out!”

 

Both monsters scrambled out the bar and continued the fight on the street. Some other customers offered their cold drinks for the barkeep to press against her trunk.

 

“Are you all right, Miss?”

 

“Yes,” she said, nasally. “Thank you, sir. I didn’t know they were going to get physical.”

 

“Drunkards are assholes most of the times,” McCree said, tipping his hat at them. “Well, I’m off. Thank you two for the help.”

 

“What help?” The elephant head shot a confused look at the two other heads.

 

“Wait!” The lizard one called out. “We have a free booth!”

 

McCree swung back right away. “You do?”

 

“Yes, it’s not open to the public most of the time. It’s for VIPs,” he said. “You can use it tomorrow for your date, as a thank you.”

 

The dog head nodded eagerly in agreement, so did the elephant, still confused.

 

“Thank you kindly. I appreciated it very much,” McCree grinned widely, and gave them his name.

 

“Have a good night, Mr. McCree,” all three heads said.

 

That night found McCree staring at the ceiling of his rented room, wondering where Hanzo was staying. What if he was at the same motel? Should he call the front desk and ask? Would that be weird? And only through sheer willpower and the exhaustion that plagued him for the past few months did McCree fall asleep.

 

He woke up, vaguely feeling like he had dreamt something but could not remember what, only that it was so pleasant he wished he could have slept longer.

 

The urge to sleep longer was unnecessary. When McCree finally rolled out of bed it was already three in the afternoon. He took his time with his breakfast-slash-lunch, pouring over his thoughts on the napkin with the motel pen. McCree always ends up writing “What do I say?”

 

He sighed, slumping back into bed.

 

When he felt like it was not too early to get ready, McCree jumped into the shower and looked over all the products the motel provided, desperately hoping there would be some sort of perfume or cologne. But cheap motel failed him, McCree opted to just wash his hair meticulously, and even used conditioner.

 

McCree picked up the scissors, then to his hair, and put both down for the shaver instead. _Should have gone into that hair salon when I had the chance._ McCree trimmed his beard. Applied aftershave. Straightened his collars. That should be about time to meet Hanzo.

 

McCree looked at the clock, it had only been an hour.

 

With a groan, he slumped back onto the bed.

 

The barkeeps were happy to see him, a few hours later when McCree finally decided he would just go and wait at the bar, hopefully get a few drinks in before Hanzo shows up.

 

McCree was led to a fancy looking corner that looked directly at the stage without any seats obscuring the view. He hummed in satisfaction, only to jolt with surprise with he actually stepped into the booth.

   

Hanzo’s startled eyes gazed back at him, a glass of whiskey already on the table.

 

“And I thought I was impatient,” McCree said, and immediately wanted to die from choking on his own tongue. Hanzo chuckled.

 

“I had nothing to do so I thought I would just come and wait,” Hanzo gestured for McCree to sit. “This is an unexpected seat, I must admit.”

 

McCree flushed, and took off his hat. Hanzo looked as impeccable as he ever did in McCree’s eyes. One glance from him and McCree felt ready to be annihilated.

 

It’s only because you haven’t seen him for a long time, McCree reassured himself.

 

“I helped the barkeep out yesterday, and they were nice enough to give me this spot for the night.”

 

Hanzo did not look surprised. He smiled. “Of course you did.”

 

McCree laughed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“It means that you are far too kind to and for anyone,” Hanzo said, leaning back in his seat and looked at the stage. A vampire was singing, drunk and swaying.

 

The flush that almost died down flared hot again. McCree undid the first button of his shirt and let out a shaky laugh.

 

“How have you been? It’s been awhile since we heard from each other,” McCree quickly changed the subject.

 

The barkeep came with McCree’s drink, and lit the candle between Hanzo and McCree aflame. Hanzo watched the fire flicker.

 

The light reflected in Hanzo’s white, McCree never knew eyes without focus could look so warm.

 

 _Focus, McCree_ , he told himself. _He pulled away from you once, it’s stupid to get hung up on._

“Nothing important or interesting,” Hanzo replied simply, sardonically. “Ran into Genji and Zenyatta again, and started to think maybe someone hexed me so I would keep bumping into my brother.”

 

McCree chortled loudly. Hanzo leaned in.

 

“It’s funny how you resist seeing your brother even though you are clearly happy to see him.”

 

“For the first two seconds before he starts talking, yes, then I am quickly reminded why we don’t work together.”

 

McCree chuckled uncontrollably. It was incredible to just have Hanzo sitting across from him. McCree suspected that even if Hanzo was reading from a toilet manual he would still be besotted beyond words.

 

“How about you? Everything went smoothly?” Hanzo asked, softer.

 

McCree paused, suddenly did not want to meet Hanzo’s gaze even though he could not tear his eyes away. _There is no judgment or blame in his words, relax,_ he told himself, but he filled in the undertone for Hanzo himself nonetheless.

 

“It’s…uh…taken care of, mostly,” McCree said. “At least the ones I know about.”

 

Hanzo nodded. “That’s’ good.”

 

There was the unasked question that neither of them knew whether they should or could ask. _What now?_ It didn’t matter what _they_ wanted, only what the other person wanted.

 

“I…” McCree started. Hanzo waited expectedly. Did he have to right to ask Hanzo back, when he was the one that left first? “I know how to play the guitar.”

 

That was not what McCree had expected himself to say, and neither was Hanzo, apparently. His brows knitted in confusion as McCree desperately tried to salvage the situation.

 

“It’s just…it helps me think, you know? And I haven’t played it since forever, not until we split up, then every time I missed you, I would play.”

 

Hanzo did not reply, and McCree thought perhaps in some part of his own subconsciousness he wanted to tank this relationship, because why else was he blabbering to the man that very clearly not interested in that way about how fiercely McCree had missed him?    

 

“I guess, in a way,” McCree tried to stop himself, but he felt drunk, so drunk that he was no longer able to control himself from oversharing. He looked at his glass of liquor, untouched, no connection to his state. “In a way I used it to see how much I feel how about you. An instrument to measure how much I….”

 

McCree chuckled nervously, staring intently at the candle. His whole face was flushed with embarrassment and regret. The premonition of a rebuff weighing heavily on him. He tried to snap out of his lethargy and give a grin, but his muscles failed him, like they almost always did when it comes to Hanzo.

 

From the corner of his eyes, he saw Hanzo leaned closer to him. Hanzo’s hand came into view, picking McCree’s flesh hand up-

 

-And pressed it to his lips

 

McCree’s hand seized in Hanzo’s palm. He gaped silently at the demon.

 

“Jesse,” Hanzo said, for the first time. “I have something I need to profess.”


	13. Day 13: Foolish

At one point in McCree’s life, he was in a gang.

 

A gang that – made him indifferent to a lot of things for a very long time. There were times where he would see innocent lives taken and not bat an eye as he passed by. There were times where he made deals knowing it would hurt a lot of people. There were times when he didn’t care.

 

Those were the times McCree tried to atone for the last few years of his life, right until the second he died, and still to the second now.

 

McCree was not a good man. He was someone that was trying all his might to _be_ one.

 

And ironically, he came to this comforting notion from the man before him who looked as though he was waiting for a beating from McCree. Which, to be honest, McCree felt quite insulted.

 

“So…you hurt your brother,” McCree said slowly.

 

Hanzo nodded, mute.

 

“But you’re buddy-buddy now.”

 

Hanzo frowned at McCree’s tone. “Er….”

 

“Have you _seen_ my files, Hanzo?”

 

Hanzo shook his head in disbelief. “How can you be so calm?”

 

“Well, let’s see. Kidnapping, gunrunning, murder,” McCree mocked counted. “Those are the thing I’ve done. Now for the crap I’ve seen, well, killing brothers is like a walk in a park.”

 

Hanzo drew back, as though McCree pelted him. McCree panicked, “I didn’t mean it as a jab – I just meant that, I’ve seen too much crap and done too much myself. You are not a bad man in my eyes.”

 

Hanzo looked very confused and very unlike the scary monster he tended to make himself out as at that moment. Sitting across from McCree, he looked very much vulnerable.

 

God, of course he was, he just spilled his deepest regret out for McCree. And honestly now McCree felt like a jackass for acting like Hanzo was overreacting.

 

“Hanzo,” McCree said. “I’m not going to say I know how you feel, or that I know how much pain you must have gone through.”

 

McCree wrapped his hands around Hanzo’s like Hanzo did earlier. And as earlier, McCree pressed soothing kisses on Hanzo’s knuckles. It felt better, to use his lips to comfort instead of being the one comforted. Hanzo’s skin was cool, smooth, and McCree couldn’t help but leave slow, long and hard kisses. “Who you were don’t matter to me much when I am too sweet on you to let the past cloud who you are _now_.”

 

Hanzo was dumbfounded, for a very, very long time.

 

McCree waited patiently, like a child waiting for their new frightened cat to come out from under the couch.

 

And, childishly, McCree dropped a quick kiss on Hanzo’s nose, snapping him out of his reverie.

 

“Still with me?” McCree grinned. Hanzo blinked rapidly.

 

“I think so,” he replied. “I’m only confused at how this conversation turned out.”

 

“Aw, honeybee,” McCree lifted Hanzo’s hands to his lips, and caressed it gently. “I’ve been told by someone that I’m far too kind. I personally think it should be the other way around, but I won’t argue with him.”

 

Hanzo smiled. He spread his fingers to grab at McCree’s beard, squeezing his cheeks fondly. “He sounds like a foolish man.”

 

McCree leaned into the touch, eyes locked with Hanzo. “The silliest.”  

 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ("You don't think my ponytail looks stupid?" 
> 
> "I think it looks very handsome." 
> 
> "Aw....")


	14. Day 14: Haunted

“Do you think your brother was actually angry when he left?”

 

Hanzo snorted. His arrowhead gleamed in the midday sun as he counted them by McCree’s window in his (theirs, from now) rented room. “No, he’s just being dramatic. No matter what he tries to tell you, the drama queen in the family was never me.”

 

“He just seemed real disappointed, it’s all,” McCree chuckled.

 

“Only to irk us,” Hanzo assured.  

 

Genji had been livid when he opened the door to find McCree dropping Hanzo off at four in the morning, threatening to lock them out because Hanzo promised, _promised_ he would be spending the night at McCree’s, then audibly winked at McCree.

 

“I never promised to that,” Hanzo said. “I did not even answer you.”

 

“I know how making up works, big brother, and it doesn’t not involve bangi –”

 

Hanzo slammed the door on Genji at that. McCree raised his eyebrows almost to the point of staying like that permanently.

 

“He, uh, want us to what?”

 

“Do not mind him,” Hanzo got McCree’s attention back by flicking his ear lightly. It itched more than it hurt, and it made McCree snapped his gaze back at Hanzo.

 

“This was an eventful night,” Hanzo continued. “But we managed to avoid that one question.”

 

McCree was still reeling, because as soon as Genji mentioned it he pictured it, and now his brain and knees were a puddle. “About banging?” McCree blurted out, and very quickly realize that was not what Hanzo had in mind whatsoever.

 

The corner of Hanzo’s lips twitched.

 

“Er….”McCree managed to say. “I promise I wasn’t trying to make this awkward.”

 

“I believe you,” Hanzo finally gave in and smiled. McCree covered himself with his serape, no matter how threadbare the thing was, he can always trust to wallow his shame in it. “I meant whether or not we will continue our separate way, or…?”

 

McCree somehow maintained countenance, thankfully, or else he would have blurted out more thoughts that he was not ready to share. “Really would hate to be separated with you again.”

 

Hanzo’s tone melted into a fondness that McCree hadn’t heard in so long, when he said, “ _Yes_.”

 

The next day saw Hanzo being dropped off in front of McCree’s motel room, and Genji throwing a “Can’t believe you two haven’t kissed,” before disappearing in a cloud of smoke.

 

“The vast interest he takes in us is flattering, to say the least,” McCree said while chewing on a cigarillo. The room had a no smoking policy but he wasn’t keen on wandering around without Hanzo right this moment.

 

Hanzo finished his maintenance and meticulously placed each arrow back in his quiver and case. Finally, he looked up and noticed the cigarillo in McCree’s mouth.

 

“Let us go and have a smoke,” Hanzo said, taking his own pipe out. “It would be nice to smoke with someone once again.”

 

McCree grinned. He missed it, too.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Superstitions used to be a thing McCree scoffed at. Owls were the herald of bad omens. Knock before going into a rented room to alert any dwellers that may be inside. Hide your thumbs when you see a hearse. Don’t point at the moon.

 

McCree thought pejorative of these beliefs when he was still a human. Now, after living in a world where its foundation was built of superstitious – owls were the messengers of a wrathful witch; ghosts appreciated the forewarning of livings coming into their space; the thumbs were where your tiny drafts of your soul come and go, keep it safe when death was near; the moon will cut your ear if you mock it. These were unspoken rules, like the one in school where you don’t bring up the test your teacher forgot. They have repercussions.

 

When McCree woke up in the middle of the night, he frantically felt for Hanzo, who was in the same bed but some distance away. His skin was smooth and cool to McCree’s touch, and McCree lay back down with a sigh; the broken pieces of Hanzo’s body from his dream was still vivid in his eyes.

 

Superstitions meant something in this world – and nightmares were warnings for disasters to come.

 

 

* * *

 

 

McCree did not say anything to Hanzo, because in spite of being a demon, Hanzo was someone McCree would call an obstinate mule. McCree couldn’t imagine Hanzo taking him seriously when he goes to him for _nightmares_ , because sometimes, nightmares were only just that.  

 

But the images haunted McCree, the sound of Hanzo’s body splitting. McCree was paranoid and skittish as they left to move to another destination. Any snaps have him thrown an arm in front of Hanzo, which earned him a very confused look when it was only a child stepping on a stick. Or McCree growling at people who looked at Hanzo with the slightest bit of malicious intent. Hanzo did not ask what McCree was doing, although he always seemed concerned.

 

The nightmares did not stop, though Hanzo stopped appearing in most of them. A week before McCree had one where a mother and daughter was smiling at him from across the street. McCree smiled back, politely. Then the pair’s smile got wider, and wider, until their faces were deformed and twisted. McCree woke up when the little girl threw something at him, and in the dark bedroom they were in – McCree felt a hand darted away from his ankle.  

 

Childishly, McCree covered his legs with blankets before closing his eyes.

 

The next one was McCree in a dark room. Hanzo was next to him, safe but petrified. Shaking him was to no avail.  

 

A sound came from the void of darkness. McCree drew his gun and waited.

 

A figure approached. Only an outline could be seen. Short, hunchback, with claws. It ambled towards him with its head shaking side to side rapidly.

 

McCree shot it dead in the head. The thing flew back from the impact, disappearing into the void.

 

McCree let out a shaky breath, wondering where the next one was going to come from, and which side of Hanzo should he stand. It didn’t take long before another noise came, from the same direction. McCree cocked the hammer of his gun and waited.

 

Another thing came, it was tall, and it blended in with the darkness. When it moved McCree could see the void shifts.

 

McCree shot it, but the bullet went through it. McCree aimed his gun at it again, but did not shoot.

 

The thing’s arms reached out, twisted fingers made a grab at McCree. McCree jumped back to avoid it. The thing followed.

 

“Your friend was an opprobrious creature and it’s not his problem he’s pissed,” McCree said, but with Hanzo’s voice.  

 

Then, once again, McCree woke up in his bed, having no clue what that dream was about and why he said that.

 

This time the reason he woke up was because of Hanzo, who was looking at him expectedly in the dark.

 

“Hey there, handsome,” McCree tried to cover up his frantic breathing with a grin.

 

“Do you have something to tell me?” Hanzo asked tersely.

 

“I don’t think so,” McCree replied weakly, sitting up in his bed.

 

“Then I will tell you what I think is happening, and you tell me if I’m right.”

 

“Hanzo….”

 

“Something is haunting you for weeks, so much so you are paranoid wherever we go. It has something to do with me, but yet you do not trust me enough to tell me. Am I correct?”

 

“What – no!” McCree yelped. “I mean, some of it is, but I do trust you. Why would you say that?”

 

Hanzo crossed his arms. “Then talk to me.”

 

“It’s just…it’s not that I don’t want to tell you, I just didn’t think it was important enough. Or that it’s just all in my head and making a big deal out of it.”

 

“Out of _what_? Whatever it is, it’s clearly taking a toll on you, and that’s enough for me to be concerned.”

 

“I just been having nightmares, all right?” McCree relented. Now Hanzo was probably going to think him as weak. A grown man not being able to handle dreams. “They’ve been very frequent out of nowhere, and real disturbing. I’ve dreamt of you get hurt, and it was right after we start traveling together again. Thought it might be bad luck and it freaked me out, okay?”

 

Hanzo was silent. When he finally talk, his question was not what McCree expected. “I was in your dream?”

 

McCree didn’t know what to say at first. “Uh…yes. In a few.”

 

Hanzo looked thoughtful. Then out of nowhere he grabbed his bow, and nocked an arrow in matters of seconds.

 

“Whoa whoa whoa!” McCree tensed. He didn’t think having Hanzo in his dreams was going to piss the demon off.

 

Hanzo shushed him, and that offended McCree more than the weapon pointed at him.

 

“Whatever you are, get out of here before I kill you,” Hanzo said, the arrow still pointing at McCree – ‘s crotch, actually.   

 

“Why are you mad at my dick?” McCree asked.

 

“I’m aiming at the bed, you _dolt,_ ” despite his words, Hanzo looked like he wanted to laugh. “Get off of it.”

 

McCree got off, and as soon as he did, something darted out from under McCree’s bed and head straight for the window at a lightning speed.

 

But lightning speed was still slower than Hanzo’s arrow. He fired, and it pinned the creature to the wall by its arm.

 

The thing screeched. Hanzo rounded on it and trapped it further by its neck with his bow.

 

“What the hell is that and why was it under my bed?” McCree had his gun out, too, and aiming at the thing. It felt familiar – then McCree realized the creature was the same one from his dream earlier.

 

“You can’t dream about demons, McCree,” Hanzo said, pressing down on the monster. It whimpered in pain. “So if you had a dream with me in it, it must be fabricated.”

 

“You mean, fake?” McCree asked. “I didn’t know that was possible.”

 

The monster started croaking out words in a language McCree never heard of, but Hanzo seemed to understand it perfectly.

 

“Your friend was an opprobrious creature and it’s not his problem he’s pissed,” Hanzo growled. “And you made a mistake by helping him.”

 

The thing shook its head in panic, pleading. Hanzo nocked another arrow.

 

McCree thought about superstitions, and how they were rules and not conjectures – if you want to dance with demons, you have to live with it when he sets you on fire.

 

“Hang on,” McCree said. Hanzo and the creature fell silent. “Why is it here?”

 

“This is a Mare,” Hanzo said. “It’s a monster that haunts people with nightmares, and apparently you offended one of its friends.”

 

McCree gaped at the mare. “I probably did, but who did I offend?”

 

“A kappa you threw out of a bar, it would seem,” Hanzo said.

 

Anger flared in McCree. “He was making a scene in the bar!”

 

“And what you did doesn’t deserve what this mare had put you through,” Hanzo agreed. “He knows he has to pay for it.”

 

The mare croaked in fear. McCree held up his hands. “All right, all right, but you don’t gotta kill him, either.”

 

Hanzo turned to look at McCree, as if he didn’t even consider not killing it.

 

“I suppose so,” Hanzo said, loosening his grip.  

 

The mare was frozen on the wall, still penetrated by one arrow. McCree took it out. “Go on, scram. Don’t let us see you again.”  

 

The mare all but barreled out of the window and disappear into the night. McCree stared after it.

 

“Guess it really wasn’t anything bad,” McCree said. Hanzo fixed him with a look.

 

“A mare made you suffer for weeks, how was that not bad?”

 

“Well, I kinda thought it was telling me that us getting back together was a bad thing, y’know,” McCree said, suddenly very wary and very tired with the promise of a good sleep, and he crawled back into bed. “ ‘M just glad it’s not, I guess.”

 

He was asleep before Hanzo stopped staring at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference to [Mare](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mare_\(folklore\))
> 
> me when I write about McCree covering his feet to protect himself from demons: does this really work when you are sleeping next to one mccree
> 
> All of the superstition I mentioned in this chapter are real ones - expect for the last one (the demon one), that is a reference to a show, I wonder if anyone knew where its from haha


	15. Day 15: Intimacy

“I’m sure you’re proud of yourself,” Hanzo said.

 

McCree howled happily, wagging his tail as he chased some geese around in the deserted clearing they stumbled upon. Hanzo sighed, “You know wolves don’t tend to wag their tails, right?”

 

McCree changed his course suddenly and pounced on Hanzo, slapping his tail across Hanzo’s face. Then McCree gave Hanzo a look that Hanzo read clearly as “Wolves don’t do this either, but here I am,” before slapping Hanzo again.

 

Hanzo was unfazed, though certainly not impressed at McCree. “Don’t you have some geese to catch? We need dinner.”

 

McCree nudged Hanzo’s stomach once more before resuming his hunt. Within seconds he had already made up for lost time and caught up with the frantic geese. Hanzo couldn’t help but be extremely impressed. McCree improved a lot during their time apart.

 

The wolf slowed and snapped his teeth at the geese’s tails. They screeched. McCree jumped in delighted circles before chasing again. Hanzo sighed impatiently.

 

“Don’t play with your food!” Hanzo shouted. His voice carried to the other side of the clearing easily. “And hurry up! I’m hungry.”

 

A dismayed howl replied to him, but soon enough Hanzo could see McCree trotting back to him, with three geese in his mouth. After dropping the geese, McCree stood up before Hanzo in his human form, and Hanzo had his ribbon ready.

 

“I hope you didn’t torture them,” Hanzo scolded, wiping his ribbon across McCree’s bloodstained mouth. McCree tried to reply, but all came out muffled as Hanzo vigorously scrubbed his skin.  

 

“Of course I didn’t,” McCree said, offended. “One of them even fought back. Scared the shit outta me.”

 

Hanzo huffed a laugh.

 

They skinned the geese. Hanzo cooked it with a fire charm as quickly as he could while McCree, now back as a wolf, drooled next to Hanzo. Every time McCree got restless, he would nose at Hanzo’s cheek or nudge his head under Hanzo’s armpit.

 

“Stop it,” Hanzo would say, then peel off a strip of meat for McCree. “That’s the last one.”

 

It was never the last one. McCree ate half of one goose by the time Hanzo finished cooking. Hanzo sighed in defeat. McCree tore into the meat cheerfully.

 

They both agreed to just spend the night in the woods instead of setting out to find any lodges. McCree stayed as a wolf, the night was always cold, and he felt better to be in his most alerted state.

 

There was another reason, however. Hanzo settled himself in the curve of McCree’s stomach and chest like it was the most natural thing in the world, where they only had done this two times before. Sometimes McCree wished they could sleep outdoors just to have more opportunity to indulge himself in this intimacy.

 

McCree wrapped his tail around Hanzo and relaxed.

 

“I’ll keep first watch,” Hanzo said. “Rest well, Jesse.”

 

McCree lifted his head and touched his forehead to Hanzo’s crown. Hanzo’s hand found its way into McCree’s ruff, and stayed after McCree placed his head back onto the grass.

 

“Goodnight, too.” Hanzo said.   


	16. Day 16: Defiance

“And why don’t you go kiss my ass?” McCree said for the twelfth time.

 

The woman sighed for the twelfth time as well. “We are getting nowhere with this.”

 

The other woman started off cheerful and cocky, now she was also on the edge of snapping and probably restraining herself from throwing something at McCree. “When did they get so stubborn?”

 

“You know, you could use a little smile,” McCree said to the first woman. “You’re looking a little blue.”

 

Her eyebrow twitched. “Maybe we should just kill this one.”

 

The other woman groaned. “We can’t do that _again_.”

 

They spoke as if McCree frustrated them. _He_ was the one that should be frustrated. Firstly, the women were careful not to refer to one another by name, so McCree had no way of knowing if he knew them and if he could somehow strike a deal. Secondly, what they wanted had nothing to do with McCree, but was asking of him the one thing he would not give in: Hanzo. That made for a very tiring negotiation. Thirdly, the rope they use to tie him with was laced with anti-transformation spell and it was making his skin itch.  

 

“Look, dude,” the non-purple woman said. “We just want you to dose your friend’s drink with some potions, and we’ll carry him off! He won’t even die.”

 

“That’s comforting,” McCree said.

 

“And you will get a large amount just for that, and, _and_ , you can come with him if you want.”

 

“I think I’ll pass.”

 

“Fine, we didn’t want you anyway,” she snapped back. McCree rolled his eyes.

 

“We really should just kill him,” the purple lady said.

 

“And risk retaliation?” The purple-hair lady said. “You want to die?”

 

“If he comes looking for us, it could be a good opportunity to trap him and just reprogram him. That’s always easier.”

 

The woman sighed, taking out her knife. “Fine, we’ll kill this one.”

 

She turned to McCree. “One last chance, pup.” She waved the knife in front of him. It was impossibly thin, which meant it probably could cut through anything like it was butter. “Help us, and you get to live a little longer.”

 

McCree gave her a defiant grin. “Then I guess you can chop away.”

 

She frowned, then sighed. “Damn it.” The knife was raised above her head and aimed at McCree’s neck. His eyes flashed a ferocious red, but otherwise remained still.

 

Her wrist snapped in half before she even moved. Sparks erupted from the severed parts, both women stared at it.

 

“Aw, shit,” she said, and jumped back to avoid a slash from Hanzo’s talons.

 

“We should probably get you to a church and blessed, Jesse,” Hanzo said. He now stood between the women and McCree. No weapon, no magic, just sharp edges and dark features and burning anger. “You have a tendency to get kidnapped.”

 

“I find it worrying myself,” McCree replied dryly.

 

“Hey, Hanzo,” the woman said, as if he didn’t just ripped her hand off. “Are you considering our offer?”

 

“If I didn’t before, why would I now?”

 

“Because now you can bring your little friend!”

 

“After you tried to kill him,” Hanzo said. The floor around him was starting to sizzle with small flames and smoke. “I think you both have death wishes.”

 

The purple woman grabbed her companion at the same time Hanzo ripped one of the pillars in the room out and swung it at them. She fired a hook that seemed to go on forever, taking both of them out of sight in a flash.

 

Hanzo did not follow. McCree didn’t see the point, either.

 

“Next time,” Hanzo said, his back still to McCree. “Agree to their terms.”

 

McCree bristled. “What?!”

 

“I would not have died, and they have no problem killing you.”

 

“So you just want me to betray you?” McCree said in disbelief. “God, fuck you, Hanzo.”

 

Hanzo turned to look at McCree. “You were ready to die,” he said.

 

McCree opened his mouth to retort, then realized he had nothing to say. He _was_ ready to die.

 

Hanzo kneeled before McCree. McCree sighed.

 

“Just get me out of these ropes,” McCree said. “They itch.”

 

It was funny, McCree would later think, how not long ago, he was ready to die for Hanzo, but he wasn’t at all ready when Hanzo pulled him into a searing kiss. Hanzo bit down on McCree's lips, then sooth it with gentle swipes from his tongue. He mouthed at McCree's surprised gasp, pecking at the corner before pressing in _hard_ , forcing McCree back and face hot from the impact.  

 

A kiss that McCree would argue that it could have been so much better if Hanzo just gave him some warning – then McCree wouldn’t just sat there, petrified, and woefully irresponsive.  

 

Hanzo pulled back. His eyes locked with McCree. Despite Hanzo’s carefully composed features, his voice was disconcerted with a hint of tremble. “Do not ever put your life before mine, Jesse. It is too important.”

 

McCree was dazed, and he stared at Hanzo’s lips when he replied with a confused, “Huh?”

 

Hanzo sat back in irritation. “McCree!”

 

“Hang on, darling, just one sec….” McCree trailed off and leaned forward slowly.

 

Hanzo’s lips were soft and cool when McCree dragged his lips across it. McCree let out a shaky moan just from the simple contact. He melted into the kiss. Hanzo caught him when McCree unconsciously tipped his chair forward to get closer.

 

McCree tilted his head and let Hanzo took care of his weight. McCree dragged his lips back and forth, opened his mouth slightly so he could close it around Hanzo’s bottom lip.

 

Hanzo hooked his talons through the ropes and cut it in one smooth, unexpected slice. McCree fell right out of the chair, crashing into Hanzo.

 

They wrapped their arms around one another in one smooth and unexpected movement as well. McCree pressed his body flushed against Hanzo’s and returned his lips to its previous spot.

 

This time the kiss was all tongue and no fineness. McCree’s tongue darted out and licked at Hanzo’s bottom lips before Hanzo even had time to open his mouth. They grabbed at each other’s back and hair, vying for dominance.

 

McCree was loud – loud breathing, wet smacking, boots scraping the floor, moans that rattled both their chests. Hanzo made small growls, and locked McCree firmly in the place where he wanted McCree to be. They twisted and curved and fought each other as if they were grappling and not pouring their hearts out.

 

Finally they broke apart, panting like swimmers heaving for fresh air after almost drowning. McCree draped over Hanzo’s shoulder. Hanzo’s embrace was still firm enough that McCree had to work his lungs to breathe properly, but couldn’t bear to tell Hanzo let go.    

 

“We’re going to have to put a tracker on you if this keeps happening,” Hanzo said.

 

McCree choked out a laugh. “If this is what I get for being kidnapped, sign me the hell up.”

 

 


	17. Day 17: Jubilant

“Mighty fine,” McCree picked up an antique crossbow and pointed at a corset near the window, scaring some pedestrians outside of the antique, weapon and tech shop. “Hanzo, you think I’ll look good firing this?”

 

Hanzo did not look up from where he stood at the counter, flipping through the catalog. “Put that down before you break something or somehow shoot yourself.”

 

“The sign here says it doesn’t work anymore,” McCree argued, and swung it in a circle. It didn’t land straight in his hand like he hoped it would, the weight felt kind of odd.

 

“Hm,” McCree flipped it back, putting his palm on the foregrip. The string broke, and the arrow bolted out so fast McCree didn’t even see it heading toward Hanzo.

 

McCree opened his mouth to shout a warning, but Hanzo’s hand snapped up and caught the arrow right before the tip touched his hair.

 

He slowly turned to give McCree an unimpressed glower. McCree bent over and wheezed.

 

“Oh, thank heavens,” McCree groaned and put the crossbow down. Hanzo returned to his browsing.

 

“Sweetheart….”

 

“What?”

 

“That was a little bit hot, what you did.”

 

“I know.”

 

When the store owner finally lumbered out to greet them, McCree had Hanzo against a wardrobe and was ravishing him with teeth and tongue and was uttering many libidinous promises that was awfully unsightly for an outsider to hear.

 

The monster sputtered awkwardly. McCree broke his kiss and stumbled backwards. If Hanzo hadn’t caught him, he would have landed straight on a pile of razor-sharp forks, and that was no fun for anyone. McCree moved to sit down by the door, thinking it would just be best for everything alive in here.

 

“Pleasure to see you again, Mr. Winston,” Hanzo greeted coolly as he fixed his mussed clothing.

 

“Yes,” Mr. Winston replied, although he sounded unsure if he shared the same sentiment. “Sorry for the wait, an experiment went a little off course. I have your order ready right here, Hanzo.”

 

The monster turned to the ceiling high shelf and started rummaging through all the knickknacks and products there, humming pleasantly to himself. McCree instantly liked this monster.

 

He caught Hanzo mouthing something at him. McCree shot him a confused look.

  
Hanzo’s mouth stretched sideways. Then to an O. McCree shook his head and mouthed “what?”

  
Hanzo pointed at Winston, stretched out his arms, and pointed at the ground.

  
  
Making sure Mr. Winston was still busy, McCree made a confused gesture.

  
  
Hanzo lifted a foot up, and pointed vigorously at it. McCree gasped.

  
“ _Bigfoot_?!”

  
  
Mr. Winston stopped dead in his search. Hanzo slapped a hand over his face. McCree coughed, awkwardly.

 

The owner laughed insouciantly. “That was an unfortunate event that took place during a visit to America,” Mr. Winston said. “I’ve never gone back again.”

 

“I meant nothing by it, Mr. Winston,” McCree said sheepishly.

 

“That’s quite all right, and call me Winston,” Winston seemed to be finished with his search. He handed a small box to Hanzo. “A quarter of clay from the Prague Golem. This is an interesting buy, who may I ask is your client?”  

 

“The Prague Golem,” Hanzo replied, handing over a check. “They want the clay people stole from them back.”

 

Winston’s gaze turned sympathetic. “I will contact you if I find more, then.”

 

While Hanzo and Winston’s conversation drifted into small talk and mutual acquaintance gossip, McCree carefully started skimming through all the wares. Something caught his eyes, then the descriptions sold on him. McCree checked the tag, it was within his price range for a gift.

 

McCree sneaked a look to Hanzo, making sure he was still preoccupied. He grabbed the crossbow to distract Hanzo from the much smaller box underneath it. Also because he still really wanted the crossbow.

 

When Hanzo finished his conversation and saw McCree wandered over to the counter with the crossbow in his arms and a satisfied smirk on his face, he only sighed.

 

“Aw, come on, Han,” McCree winked. “You can teach me how to shoot it.”

 

Hanzo gave him an exasperated expression and walked away. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

 

McCree grinned as he heard the door click.

 

“This thing really works this easily?” McCree asked.

 

Winston picked up the small box, nodding. “As the tag says. It’s a simple spell, works as long as the wearers are both touching the ground and on the same continent.”

 

McCree’s grin widened, and pulled out his wallet. “Perfect.”

 

The afternoon was spent in contacting their client and setting up an appointment. The golem wept when they saw the clay through the hologram.

 

Hanzo looked a bit somber after the meeting. He meditated against McCree for the rest of the late afternoon until the moon came out and McCree was a little stiff from being a wolf. But Hanzo still remained still.

 

Eventually the demon shivered, and McCree curled his tail so it wrapped around Hanzo.

 

“It is the most pernicious deed, taking a part of someone away,” Hanzo said quietly.

 

McCree ululated at the crestfallen expression on Hanzo’s face, ashamed, as though he was talking about himself. Hanzo started at the sound and turned to McCree.

 

Hanzo smiled, a little dolefully, but the way he ran his fingers through McCree’s ruff was nothing but fond. “Just thinking, is all.”

 

McCree was sure that was not true, but he didn’t press. Instead, he pressed a kiss on the back on Hanzo’s neck and wrapped his arms around his waist.

 

“I got something for you,” McCree said.

 

Hanzo raised his eyebrows, like he really did not expect to hear that. McCree draped his serape around himself as he got up.

 

He took the rings from its box and lay it out in his palm for Hanzo to see. Hanzo recognized it immediately.

 

“I was joking about the trackers,” Hanzo said despite the chuckles that escaped his lips.

 

“Yeah, well,” McCree gave Hanzo one of the two brass rings, each with a small malachite embedded in the center. “Getting kidnapped may be growing on me, but I wouldn’t want to be lost when I’m looking for you.”

 

Hanzo wordlessly took one. He caressed the ring, expression thoughtful. McCree shifted nervously.

 

“It will find the other wearer as long as both is touching the ground and on the same continent,” McCree explained, and watched as both malachite emitted a subtle beam of light that pointed at each other. “You don’t gotta wear it if you don’t want to….”

 

Hanzo shook his head. He was still silent, and it was eating McCree up from the inside. Then McCree was pulled into a kiss.

 

If a kiss with Hanzo was without the sting of his fangs either meant Hanzo was not putting his mind into it or he was extremely emotional. From the hand that cupped McCree’s nape and the slow breathing, McCree guessed it was the latter.

 

They stayed like that until McCree’s arms faltered and everything inside McCree felt like a livewire crackling with jubilant joy. Until both Hanzo’s hands were in McCree’s hair. Until they both needed air, but couldn’t seem to pull away.

 

Until they were leaning against each other in a way that made both questioned why they hadn’t done it sooner because, god, they needed it.

 


	18. Day 18: Waiting

Hanzo stood across, at the other side of the gallery, directly under the painting of Paul preaching in Athens - whether that was intentional or not McCree did not know, but he wouldn’t put it pass someone as dramatic as Hanzo

  
  
McCree waved. Hanzo gave a two finger wave back, then gestured to the darkened cathedral nave below them. His expression, while in the dark and a dome length away, was still clear to McCree’s eyes: _focus_.  

  
  
McCree moved back to sit on the stone ledges, content to just watch Hanzo gaze at him from across the cathedral, with chandlers gleaming just outside of McCree’s view.

  
  
Hanzo moved to sit down as well, and turned his face to the wall, as if he was obscuring his face from McCree. McCree stood, stomach twisted at the unusual behavior. Suddenly, Hanzo’s voice was directly into his ear, “Jesse.”

  
  
McCree started and jumped comically high. He could hear Hanzo laugh.

  
  
“You didn’t read the description about the whisper gallery, did you?” Hanzo said from across the dome, the church bell rang for twelve o’clock, sounding muffled from the inside.

 

“Excuse me, I didn’t know we were here for sightseeing,” McCree said, hesitantly copying Hanzo talking to the wall.

 

“We need to wait, might as well,” Hanzo said. “Did you see anything from your side?”

 

“No,” McCree rested his boots on the railing. The mosaics of St. Mark and winged angels gleamed slightly in the dim candlelight the cathedral staff left on for them. “No shadows, no movement, no nothing.” McCree flipped his serape across his neck and pulled down his hat.

 

“Stop doing that,” Hanzo said. McCree looked up in confusion.

 

“What?”

  
  
“Flipping your serape to look cool.”

  
  
“I do not – you think I look cool?”

  
  
“I said, trying to look cool.”

  
  
“You didn’t say trying.”

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be on watch?” Hanzo snapped.

 

McCree smirked. “Aren’t you? So far I’ve only seen you looking at me.”

 

Hanzo scowled, and turned his face away from McCree in defiance. The rest of McCree’s attempt to goad Hanzo into a conversation was met with the most laconic answers possible.

 

“Don’t be a baby,” finally McCree got a little irritated when Hanzo stopped replying altogether. “I was just teasing.”

 

Hanzo still didn’t reply, in fact, he disappeared from his spot completely. McCree stood up in alarm, gun drawn within seconds.

 

His arm was caught not moments after by Hanzo, who appeared just as suddenly as he vanished. McCree had half a mind to clock him in the face for the fright when Hanzo stopped his train of thoughts, “Did you see that?”

 

Hanzo pointed at the mosaic arrangement of St. Mark McCree was admiring earlier. McCree was adamant there wasn’t anything there, but he trusted Hanzo more than he trusted his eyes, so he went still.

 

Then, very subtly, one of the angel’s wings moved.

 

McCree and Hanzo’s weapons were drawn and aimed in a time shorter than anyone could bat their eyes. The monster knew its cover was blown, and abandoned its hiding place with a long screech.

 

It came bolting through the air towards the two monsters. McCree transformed into a wolf and gave an even louder roar.

 

The Garuda revolted in shock and fright, before changing direction, dropping head first towards the entrance that lead to the crypt.

 

“Follow it!” Hanzo shouted, and McCree was a step ahead of him, jumping down from the dome and landing in the south transept. “And don’t break anything!”

 

It was hard not to at least run into some of the chairs and crashing into tombs with the sheer size of McCree’s head alone. The bird monster had a size advantage, but in speed, the wolf was joltingly fast.

 

McCree spotted Hanzo keeping up with him from the corner of his eyes. He snapped his jaw the Garuda’s left side, forcing it to go right.

 

-And right into Hanzo

 

Hanzo knocked the monster out with his bow in one swift motion. The Garuda collapsed onto the ground.

 

McCree stood at full height, intimidatingly so long after Hanzo tied the Garuda’s wings up.

 

Hanzo paused at McCree’s alarmed state. McCree growled.

 

Behind him, a low screeching noise rang out from the depths of the crypt. Hanzo nocked an arrow. McCree slowly walked towards it, announcing his movement by the steadily increasing rumble from the back of his throat.

 

Hanzo held up a hand, and McCree stopped. He fired a sonic arrow.

 

An outline of another monster, crouched on the ground could be seen. It let out a low, long whimper.

 

In response, the Garuda woke and started thrashing. Hanzo continued with McCree closely behind.

 

In a dark corner, beside a statue of an angel, a wounded harpy lay on the stone floor, looking at them helplessly.

 

“It was only guarding its companion,” Hanzo said, astonished. “When the cathedral realized there were monsters in here, the barrier they established before calling us trapped them, and it needed to protect its companion.”

 

The harpy let out a pained moan, slumping to the ground. Frantic footsteps rang above them, and a clergy peaked into the crypt from the opening on the ground.

 

“Mr. Shimada, Mr. McCree,” he said. “Is everything all right?”

 

“Yes,” Hanzo replied. “But we need medical attention for a harpy immediately.”

 

The clergy came back with a doctor in tow right away. The doctor rushed to the harpy, and the clergy joined Hanzo and McCree beside the Garuda.

 

“You are a long way from home,” the clergy said, putting a soothing hand on the monster. “We will notify the temples there and see if they know of any missing.”

 

Hanzo cut in, explaining that the harpy and the Garuda might be together, and they should find a translator before attempting to separate the two.

 

Their employer considered it and made up his mind quickly. “I trust your judgment, Mr. Shimada. Thank you for your help again, and Mr. McCree.”

 

The clergy nodded and left. Hanzo made way for the exit, McCree close behind.

 

They stepped into the cold London night. Both in their unobtrusive forms. They stopped and rested in the empty garden of the cathedral in unspoken agreement.

 

“Quite admirable,” Hanzo said.  

 

“Can’t imagine getting trapped while having to hide your friend from the tourists all day,” McCree lit up a cigarillo, passed it after one drag. “Admirable indeed.”

 

They finished the smoke in the waning city light, the placid silence in the garden. The cold clings of their rings. They finished their shared smoke in the gentleness of the night and the static warmth of their joined hands.    

 

    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference to [Garuda](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Garuda) and [Harpy](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harpy)
> 
> almost 20 chapters! Days do go by so fast when you try to write everyday, and with school work plus writing this, I apologize if sometimes the quality goes down a little, or how I can never really stick to the prompts and almost always just goes into another direction.  
> Just want to say thank you for all the kudos and comments from everyone! It's so fun for me to write about monsters and tropes I personally really like in ships, thank you all for indulging me and enjoying them with me.


	19. Day 19: Nature

McCree’s hat was a gift from his mother when he was ten years old. It had been too big back then, and it had become too small sometime around her death. But he was sentimental about objects he carried with him. So he fixed holes, mended tattered cloths, tailored hats.

 

He was protective of these things, he never left them at a cloakroom, or left them unattended on a bar table, or lend it to anyone else.

 

So when McCree wandered back to their meeting spot (the second oak tree from the big rock) after his hunt to get his clothes, he found Hanzo wrapped in his serape and using his hat to block the sun from his eyes and didn’t even think anything of it until a solid ten minutes later – McCree swung around and stared at Hanzo for a long while.

 

“Aw, look at you two.”

 

McCree grabbed his gun and aimed it at the woman. She hissed and ducked behind a thick oak branch, peering at him over it.

 

By the look of it, she was some sort of nature fairy. A nymph? Or – McCree recalled at the last minute, a Dryad. Oak trees were their usual habitats. Known to be shy and easily startled.  

 

McCree put his weapon away and tried to tip his hat, then remembered it was currently being used by a very sleepy demon. “Apologies, ma’am, you scared me.”

 

The Dryad raised her head, now openly staring at them. “I have never seen an oni before,” she said. “They usually never come here, let alone with companions.”

 

“We’re just passing by, hope we weren’t bothering you.”

 

“A gentleman!” She said, as if in awe. “I thought you were extinct! Where have you been?”

 

McCree blushed. Somehow he felt very flustered. “Ah, thank you, miss….”

 

McCree didn’t know what to say, thankfully he was saved by a demon in a threadbare serape. Who appeared by McCree without a sound or movement, glowering at the dryad.

 

“Nice nap?” McCree greeted the grumpy demon with mussed ponytail with a kiss to the cheek. “You must be real tuckered out.”

 

“ _You_ tuckered me out,” Hanzo said pointedly, but staring at the Dryad while doing so. McCree sputtered.

 

“There’s a lady present!” McCree hissed, mortified. Hanzo’s lips turned down further than usual.

 

“Why do you suddenly care?” Hanzo hissed back.

 

The Dryad watched the exchange with interest, before gasping in realization.

 

“You are Jesse McCree and Hanzo Shimada,” she said. The pair turned their attention to her.

 

“Didn’t know we were so famous,” McCree said, puffing his chest out comically to make Hanzo snicker.

 

Hanzo indeed snickered at the act, and looked quite proud himself. “Of course, we’re excellent in our line of business.”

 

The Dryad giggled. “You two are _the couple_.” McCree and Hanzo stopped their gloating, staring at her. She continued, “I was having tea with some other nature fairies the other day – the Leshy, and Ajatar, they’re quite the gossips – and they told me all about you two!” She skittered down the tree to get closer, and cupped her hands around her mouth as if she was going to tell a secret. “Did you two really kissed on the highest mountain of Annwn after killing an evil elf?”

 

“What the fuck is Annwn?” McCree whispered to Hanzo.

 

“It’s a sort of paradise in Wales,” Hanzo said back. “Which we’ve never been to, nor have we ever killed an evil elf.”

 

The Dryad’s face fell in disappointment. “No romantic kissing?”

 

“It would be none of your concern,” Hanzo snapped, which caused the Dryad to shrink in horror at Hanzo’s tone and sharpening fangs.

 

McCree pushed the hat down on Hanzo’s head, making him growled irately. “We’ll just be on our way now, miss. Have a lovely day, it was nice meeting you.”

 

The Dryad lay sideways on a branch and looked at McCree dreamily. “Such a gentleman.”

 

It took McCree all his strength and more to stop Hanzo from springing back to the tree and strangling the Dryad. McCree held onto Hanzo firmly in his arms.

 

“Now, don’t be rude,” McCree tried to assuage him with soft nuzzling.

 

“She had the gall!” Hanzo ground his teeth audibly.

 

“Don’t be like that,” McCree said, and snatched his hat back. It felt right to be wearing it again.

 

Hanzo scoffed, and sulked. McCree cocked his head at him.

 

“Hm,” he hummed. Then, without hesitation, McCree placed his hat back on Hanzo’s head.

 

“What,” Hanzo said.

 

“Nothin’” McCree grinned. “You know you’re the only person I’ll ever be sweet on.”

 

Hanzo grumbled something under his breath. McCree only grinned wider, and sling an arm around Hanzo as they continued their travel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Dryad](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dryad)   
> [Ajatar](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ajatar)  
> [Leshy](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leshy)   
> [Annwn](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Annwn)


	20. Day 20: Sheltered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Wiki page for Oni said that they are sometimes afraid of holly, and the citation for that was a video of two hikers talking about protections from Oni. I couldn't find any other stuff to back this fact up, so take it with a grain of salt.

“When was the last time I have you here, bleeding all over my floor?” Miss Vaswani said, clearly disapprove of the amount of blood that was currently dying her carpet.

  
  
“Never,” Hanzo groaned through the stitches McCree was giving him, which only made McCree more worried, usually Hanzo doesn’t even bat an eye at wounds. “We were outnumbered, and they filled their bullets with holly.”

 

“You don’t really see hunters hunting oni nowadays anymore,” Vaswani sat down, did not seem to want to offer help. Although opening her gates and setting all their enemies on fire at once while McCree helped Hanzo in was more than enough help. Also, she made tea.

 

“All done,” McCree bit the stitches off and pressed a kiss to it before pulling away. “How do you feel? I just need to wrap it up.”

 

Hanzo looked as he felt. Haggard, mussed, and more sepulchral than usual. He gazed at McCree’s movement from under his rumpled hair, each pant sounded like a growl.

 

“It has been a long time since I’ve been attacked with proper equipment and knowledgeable hunters,” Hanzo said quietly.

 

“I believe ya,” McCree said absentmindedly but sincerely, now fully focused on the smaller wounds. They needed to be cleaned from holly remnants, and other anti-demon curses.

 

Hanzo shifted uncomfortably. McCree slowed his treatment.

 

“I would not have been caught off – ”

 

McCree slapped a palm over Hanzo’s mouth. “Jesus Christ, are you being embarrassed on me, now? You think I’ll think less of you?”

 

Hanzo’s scowl deepened.

 

“I should rip your stitches out just for that,” McCree bit sharply. “How could you think that, after everything?”

 

The rebuff didn’t appear to sting Hanzo in the slightest, but the fugacious hurt that marred McCree’s features too quickly for anyone else to see did.

 

McCree closed the distance between them, placing his forehead on Hanzo’s crown. “You fucking asshole, sometimes you piss me off. Getting hurt, then get all defensive about getting hurt.”

 

McCree removed his hand from Hanzo’s mouth. Sometimes during the conversation, Vaswani had left the room. McCree grabbed his serape and wrapped it around both of them.

 

Hanzo let himself be sheltered by McCree’s gentle warmth. His ubiquitous, all-consuming, and at times, belligerent warmth, and Hanzo was willing to sink in it like the sun returning in the dawn to take the darkness away from the moon. Or the first breath of a victorious warrior – or, just a kiss from a lover.

 

McCree wrapped all of him around Hanzo, with more care than Hanzo ever showed himself. “We take care of each other.”  

 

 

 

 


	21. Day 21: Fingertips

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firm believer that Hanzo (and Genji) are hardcore gamer

“Go this way.”

 

“Which way?”

 

“This way,” Hanzo pointed, his talon clang against the screen.

 

Every breath they took condensed to a layer of white mist on the screen of Hanzo’s handheld game console. McCree paused every few minutes to wipe it away.

 

“The battery is getting low,” McCree said.

 

“The cold drains battery life.”

 

“I don’t suppose you can charge this thing here, can you?”

 

Hanzo looked up and see McCree gestured at the snow covered clearing they found themselves in. Hanzo wrapped the serape around them a little tighter.

 

“I have a portable charger,” Hanzo said.

 

McCree huffed a laugh. “Of course you do.”

 

Hanzo gave McCree a sideways glance, but made no move to retort. “Go into the cave.”  

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

The only light in the forest was the eyes of the owls, the moonshine, and the artificial light of the game they were playing. Hanzo obtained the latest release of a game he has been a fan of for decades.

 

But the differences was, since the first version, the game had been from a traditional handheld console, with buttons and arrow key, to the solely touch screen console now.  

 

Two weeks ago, after Hanzo got the game, McCree had come home one day to find Hanzo, for some reason, laying on the bed in his human form playing.

 

“Why are you in disguise?” McCree asked after putting down their dinner. “Are we having company?”

 

Hanzo only grunted. His eyes glued to the screen. “The game doesn’t register my talon.”

 

McCree didn’t say anything after that. Only sat at the table and ate his dinner, letting Hanzo play his game in peace.

 

About two hours later, when McCree was watching TV, he felt a familiar shift of energy behind him.

 

McCree turned to look from his position on the couch. Hanzo’s intense focus shifted into a scowl and he started vigorously poking at the screen. He was now back in his midnight skin and nightmoon eyes, McCree grinned.

 

“Got tired, sweetheart?” McCree said, then realized. “Wait, how long have you been in your human form? Two hours isn’t enough to tire you.”

 

Hanzo grunted and threw the console to the other side of the bed in irritation. “After you left.”

 

McCree sighed, rubbed the bridge of his nose like an exhausted parent. “Darling….”

 

“I was getting close to acquiring a new weapon,” Hanzo said, all too innocently.

 

McCree rolled his eyes. It was not like Hanzo was a child that needed to be chastised.

 

Despite his frustration earlier, Hanzo reached over and picked up the console again. He poked at it for a while, the sounds of nails against glass rang in the room, just enough for McCree to hear it over the television.

 

After ten minutes of intense scraping, McCree turned off the TV and hopped into bed.

 

“Gimme,” McCree said, grabbing the console from Hanzo’s hands. Hanzo gave him a startled look, which shouldn’t look so cute with his wide eyes and an open mouth full of fangs. McCree touched the screen. The game registered his fingertips perfectly. “What do you want to do?”

 

“Jesse….”

 

“Or do you want to play it yourself?”

 

“No, but you don’t have to do this.”

 

McCree pressed a kiss to Hanzo’s temple. “Hm, I want to get my sweetheart that weapon he wants so much.”

 

Hanzo stared at McCree for a long moment, before laying his head on McCree’s shoulder, and showed him how to play the game.

 

Now, in the snow-covered field, McCree controlled Hanzo’s character for him. Hanzo gave instructions often, chats now and then, and kisses occasionally.  

 

“Sweetheart.”

 

“Hm?”

 

“After we finish this game, we should buy another one.”

 

“That sounds very nice.”


	22. Day 22: Lost

“We’re lost.”

 

“We are not lost.”

 

“Yes, we are.”

 

“Have you seen us going in a circle?”

 

“I didn’t say we were going in a circle, I said we’re _lost_.”

 

A grunt. “Why don’t you put that wolf of yours to good use, then?”

 

“Now, honey, of all the scenarios I’ve imagined you saying that, this was not one of them.”

 

McCree bolted off before Hanzo could retaliate by transforming into the demon that was an equal size to McCree’s wolf form and pinning him to the ground. Normally McCree wouldn’t mind, but they had a deadline to meet and not a single damn clue of where they’re going.

 

McCree ran through trees, accidently crashing into a few of them and almost breaking the trunk. The fairies that lived on the tress poked their heads out and waved their fists at McCree angrily.

 

Around ten minutes after he left, McCree ran into something sticky and translucent. McCree stopped to spit out the spider webs, _god_ , _he hoped they were webs._

He didn’t stop to wallow in the fact he might have eaten something gross. He still hadn’t found a way out, and Hanzo was waiting.

 

McCree tried for another half an hour before giving up. He should at least go back and tell Hanzo where _wasn’t_ the road out before venturing further into the woods. McCree didn’t know this area well enough to say for certain that there weren’t more dangerous monsters in these woods than cranky fairies.

 

McCree traced his footsteps back. He slowed his pace around the place where he accidentally ran into the wall of web, and carefully walked through the blanket of white mist between trees.

 

As soon as he passed, McCree’s eyes blinked rapidly in reflective adjustment of the lights. He looked up to see the moon.

 

But he left before noon.

 

Just when McCree was wrapping his head around the hour he had been gone, a frantic rustling of leaves distracted him. McCree perked up at the scent.

 

Hanzo bolted out of the darkness and all but threw himself at McCree. Both monsters fell and skidded for twenty feet from the impact. McCree groaned.   

 

“Where have you been?!” Hanzo shouted, punching the dirt from anger. “Where the _fuck_ have you been?!”

 

McCree gasped and transformed back. He caught Hanzo’s fist before it made contact with the ground again. “I’ve just been looking for a way out, like I said! I was only looking for around an hour.”

 

McCree sat up and took in Hanzo. The demon was thoroughly dirtied, leaves in his hair and scraps on his cheeks and shoulders. Hanzo looked distraught, and his hands were shaking.

 

“How long have I been gone?” McCree asked tentatively.

 

Hanzo panted, his chest heaved like he wasn’t getting any air. “Around eleven hours.”

 

“Oh, honey…I don’t know how that happen.”

 

“The ring couldn’t find you,” Hanzo said breathlessly, still staring at the dirt. “I didn’t try using it to look for you after two hours, but the light was unstable, then it just went out. I didn’t know if you’ve lost it, took it off deliberately, or something else?”

 

McCree’s chest tightened painfully at Hanzo’s tone. He drew the other into a crushing embrace. “I would die before leaving you, Hanzo.”

 

Hanzo let out a ballistic shout. “Why would you say that?!”

 

“Sorry, sorry….”

 

Hanzo stayed in his arms for a long, long while, and McCree let him. From the corner of his eyes, he could see the white mist of spider webs – and McCree wondered what they really are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't fine any mythological creature that makes people get lost in the woods (I feel like there should be tons!) except for [Douen](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Douen), but it wasn't exactly what I was looking for. If anyone knows of any, feel free to tell me!!


	23. Day 23: Wishes

It involved a gossipy Dryad that was interested in them, the speed of gossips that traveled in the fairy world, and the good people of _Daoine Maithe_ being at the end of the gossip train that led McCree currently trapped in the modern city of Wrocław during what was supposed to be a relax date _._

Stupefied humans stood around the town hall. People, only moments ago, were taking pictures, eating, drinking. A dog jumped and stopped in midair. A tourist was looking at the ATM in confusion. Just common people minding their own business when a bright light covered the city and everything _stopped_.

 

Everything except McCree and Hanzo, who were enjoying a share cone of ice cream when it happened. They looked up, both faces blank with a hint of irritation.

 

“What was that light?” Hanzo asked.

 

“Are we finally running into aliens?” McCree said.

 

“It’s not aliens,” Hanzo said. “Look down.”

 

McCree did. And there they were: a small winged fairy and a gnome, looking up at them.

 

The pair stared for a tensed moment. Then suddenly, the fairy took first strike – it flew up to Hanzo, stick out its hand, and tapped Hanzo on the nose.

 

Hanzo and McCree blinked at it, before Hanzo disappeared in a flash of light.

 

The fairy and the gnome giggled at McCree’s dumbstruck expression. The giggles were joined by many others when fairies and gnomes appeared one by one, in the air, from behind plants and buildings.

 

The annoyances of sounds were quickly silenced when McCree snatched the fairy in front of him by the third wing so it couldn’t get away. Gasps rang out among the fae, and fairies flew away, gnomes disappeared under stone tiles.

 

McCree held on to the very first one. It struggled and hissed.

 

“All right, y’all nasty assholes,” McCree said. He was getting more pissed at the whole species of fairy by the second at this point of life. “What did you do with him and why.”

 

“We just wanted to see how good the wolf and the demon really is,” the fairy talked with a flutter to each syllable, it was making McCree’s head spin uncomfortably. “Our friends in gnomeland were very happy to help. Your demon in still in the city, and he is also looking for you.”

 

“Uh huh,” McCree said. “And how do we find each other? And what is to say I can’t just kill you right now?”

 

McCree put the barrel of his gun to the fairy’s head. The bullets from Peacekeeper were probably bigger that the monster. The fairy didn’t look too bothered.

 

“Why are you so angry?” It asked, as though it was genuinely confused. “It’s just a game. We won’t keep you apart forever.”

 

“He has the ice cream,” McCree deadpanned.

 

The fairy bit McCree’s fingers, and he yelped at the pain. How could little sharp teeth hurt that much? Next time McCree will know to grab them with his metal hand.

 

The fairy flew out of his reach, but stopped to give him one last clue.

 

“There’s a reason why you two are drawn to each other, have you ever thought of why?” The fairy said. “What is it that you wish for, Jesse McCree?”

 

“I wish for your kind to leave me the fuck alone,” McCree said, but the fairy was already gone, and Hanzo still wasn’t back so he guessed that wasn’t his wish. He felt pretty strongly about it, though.

 

McCree looked at the dimmed ring. Well, he didn’t expect it to be that easy.

 

Since humans weren’t part of his concern now, McCree transformed and sniffed the air. The city was devoided of scent. A surprisingly clean and pleasant smell altogether.

 

There were other ways McCree could find Hanzo. He stubbornly refused to play the game. With a heavy leap, McCree caught a window sill under his paws and used that to jump to the top of the town hall. He perched on the top, scanning the city line. Maybe Hanzo was looking up. Maybe McCree should look down.

 

He waited for a long minute, but there was nothing. He leaped to the bank building next to the town hall. McCree jumped and climbed from churches to civilian houses to universities and to bridges. He stopped for water at a supermarket and glared at the gnomes and fairies that sat on the big ladybug sign, laughing at him.

 

McCree had to resist the urge to pee on every gnome statue that littered across Wrocław, but decided that would take too much of his time.

 

The sun was already setting by four in the afternoon. McCree ran on foot from Wrocław University to Market Hall, from Centennial Hall to Cathedral Island. He rested on the tower of the Church of the Holy Cross, with the sun setting behind him.

 

God, he hated fairies. McCree howled at the city beneath him, hoping every damn one of them heard it, and swore he heard a faint giggling in return.

 

McCree jumped down. His head hung. He lay at the feet of the Bohemian saint.

 

_Play the damn game_ , he told himself. _I hate fairies. I hate tricks. But swallow your pride and get this over with. Hanzo probably already figured out by now. What does he wish for? A new bow. A gourd filled with sake that would never run out. A do over with Genji._

 

McCree flopped onto his back. The moon was out. The crown of stars of the statue is blocking parts of the sky. _Poland is a beautiful country, I want to visit other cities. There’s a faint spot on the horizon._ What do I wish for? _The spot is Mercury. The first planet, but not the first to be discovered._ What do I wish for?

 

The glare of the twilight watered McCree’s eyes and he shook off some fairies and gnomes that were poking him. _What do we both wish for? Astrologist originally calls the planets “wanderers”, but they’re not lost. They liked being lost._

McCree got to his feet slowly, shaking off the last gnomes that clung to his tail. He started with a trot. A journey with a clear destination felt a lot less urgent, but McCree thought of Hanzo’s face, and the ice cream they never got to finish.

 

He started to run. Across the bridges filled with locks and people locking locks. Across prayers. Across the statues of gnomes and real gnomes. It took him hours to the end of the game, but less than ten minutes to the destination. Hanzo was already waiting.

 

Fairies and gnomes covered the “G” of the central train station sign. They cheered when McCree ran into view. McCree growled at them. Hanzo put a calming hand on his cheek.

 

“Did you wait long?” McCree asked after turning.

 

“I got here not long ago,” Hanzo said. “Thank you for not making me suffer alone in their present.”

 

McCree couldn’t help it. He should demand the fae to end the game right away, but he pulled Hanzo into a kiss first. “I didn’t get to enjoy the ice cream,” McCree murmured into the kiss.

 

Hanzo’s lips wandered softly to McCree’s neck and stayed there. “We’ll get another one.”

 

They turned to glare at the still cheering fae. “Good people my ass,” McCree said. “Will y’all quit it now?”

 

“Jesse and Hanzo sitting in the tree!” They sang. “K-I-S-S-”

 

McCree pulled out his gun and shot at them. They screamed and scrambled frantically around. McCree cocked his hammer threateningly.

 

A white light flashed across the city, and suddenly it was noon again. The sun was out, people walked about. The sounds and rumbles of trains ran through the ground.

 

McCree saw a flash of red hat from the corner of his eyes and decided to let it go. He was tired.

 

“Where would you like to go now?” Hanzo asked, gently pulling McCree to the train schedule. “I feel ready to leave this city.”

 

McCree scanned the list. Trains to the east and in, to south and out. Every choice looked good. “Let’s close our eyes and choose, sweetheart,” McCree grinned. “I don’t mind getting lost.”      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Daoine maithe](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daoine_maithe) "The good people"  
>  A great deal of people replied with cools mythological creatures in the last chapters, and a lot of them were fairies! While I was googling each of them I just kept clinking links to other creatures, until there were almost 15 tabs open on my browser. It really got me in the mood for faes so once again McCree and Hanzo are tortured by them.  
> Thank you for all the people who replied! I got to know a lot more creatures (ง •̀ω•́)ง✧
> 
> Feel free to tell me of any mistakes I usually posts these at 3 am after along day and my brain is likely not functioning properly


	24. Day 24: Breakable

A demon was – by all monster’s standard – one of the most tenacious, dominate, ferocious creature. Monsters and humans alike fought for their favors, fought to be under their aegis. For creatures they have hunted, they were nightmares. For creatures they have worked with, they were the most powerful allies. For creatures they have befriended, they were the most trusted companions.

 

For the creatures they have fallen in love with, they were the most fragile beings, because once they break, there was no certain they could be fixed.

 

McCree’s heart most painfully demonstrated this. Under McCree’s hands Hanzo became placid and silent. Any usual coldness of Hanzo’s skin was driven under by the warm blood that drained out of his legs. McCree was told to keep Hanzo steady until helps arrive, but how could he keep Hanzo steady when McCree was shaking all over? Any second now Hanzo could slip into an irrevocable sleep, and the pain that gnawed at McCree’s body would finally take over, until what was left in the puddle of red were the shells of two broken monsters.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no life was taken in the making of this chapter


	25. Day 25: Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beep Beep a warning: very very brief mention of doomzo in this chapter

Angela Ziegler’s home always smelled of clean gauze, herbs and honey. Perhaps it was because she had taken out all her supplies when Hanzo arrived with Satya and McCree on her doorstep. In the bright three stories home on the bluff on the snowy Swiss mountain it was always bright, the snow reflected sunlight directly into her home, practically made all the lights in her house obsolete.

 

_Probably saves a lot of money,_ McCree thought, but looking at all the certificate and awards – monsters and humans alike – it didn’t seem like she needed to.

 

Angela declared Hanzo out of danger within half an hour after her care, but her lips were drawn down, and she did not take her bloodied gloves off.

 

“He is a high class demon, especially as an oni. I don’t have any technology or expertise in the body of his kind.”

 

“But you’re the best medic we know,” Satya’s whole body seemed to flame red from frustration. Angela took a step back.  

 

“Yes – but I don’t have data for an oni’s body composition, Satya.” Angela stressed. “I need to consult other people, and funds for research – ”

 

“Take care of him and I’ll give you the funds,” Satya said.

 

“I’m afraid I’ll need more important things than funds from you.”

 

“I was ready to help before I even stepped into your territory.”

 

The witch and the Rakshasa shared a moment of silence. Then Angela took off her gloves.

 

“I’m going to make some calls,” she said, and left.

 

Satya followed her. “I’ll give you a moment.”

 

McCree was quiet during the exchange. He covered Hanzo’s lower half with the blanket Angela provided, and covered it again with his serape.

 

Hanzo did not breathe, even if McCree longed to feel it. A voice inside told him to shut up, Hanzo needed to fully shut down and convalesce.

 

McCree spread his palms over Hanzo’s chest and laid his head against the wall. If Hanzo started breathing, he would know.

 

Angela woke him up after however long he slept. Said she had prepared a proper room with healing spells that would speed up the healing process.

 

“I also prepared another bed next to him,” she said, bringing them into the spacious room. The smell of fresh snow drifted into the room from the open window. The room was full of books, neatly stacked in rolls of wall shelf. A TV sat in the corner. One wall was completely glass and overlooked the valley below. A remote was given to McCree to control anything in the room.

 

Hanzo was laid gently on the bed with a wave of Angela’s fingers. McCree covered him with the soft blanket again, smoothing it out.

 

“Come,” the doctor said. She showed him a bowl filled with fresh horse chestnut, sat on a coffee table with a pot of boiling water next to it. Angela poured the water in the bowl, from it a sweet-smelling steam filled the room.

 

“Keep the room full of steam. It won’t run out, so don’t worry. You don’t need to shut the window. The air can come in, and the steam won’t get out.”

 

McCree nodded. Angela waited expectedly. When nothing happened, she only sighed, and walked over to Hanzo.

 

Angela did not find Hanzo’s vein as doctors would with a human. She rubbed Hanzo’s skin with a cloth after dipping it in water filled with holly. Then she inserted the needle. Angela grounded some pills with hops and ginseng. The powder turned into liquid when she blew on them.

 

The mixture was injected into the IV. Angela checked if the liquid was properly flowing before turning to McCree.

 

“Would you like to stay?” She asked. “You do not have to. I have a gym, library, or just a spare bedroom if you need one.”

 

McCree smiled. Angela frowned at it. “I think I’ll stay here, Doctor Ziegler,” he said. “Thank you.”

 

She nodded.

 

Ten minutes later, she came back with a transparent teapot, where the surface was filled with carved symbols, or a language McCree had never seen before. A bag with kava and lemon balm soaked in the water.

 

“Drink this every two hours,” she instructed. McCree nodded.

 

Angela shook her head. “It’s for you.”

 

McCree turned away from Hanzo to look at her, but she had already left the room.

 

* * *

 

Three days after they arrived, Genji and Zenyatta came. That was the first time in three days McCree had seen Satya coming out of the lab as well. They greeted the pair at the door, but Genji went straight to Hanzo’s room, and McCree took the chance to retreat back too.

 

Genji stayed with McCree in equal silence for a while. McCree couldn’t bear to look at Hanzo’s brother. He felt more like a failure than ever in his entire life.

 

Genji broke the frozen spell when Angela knocked on the door. He apologized for not greeting her properly, bowing at the waist. She bowed back.

 

McCree went to pour water over the horse chestnuts. He felt a presence behind him.

 

“You should eat something,” Genji said.

 

“I am,” McCree finished his task and returned to his seat beside Hanzo’s bed. Genji sat on the bed, where Hanzo’s legs should be.

 

“He’s recovering, but who knows when he’ll wake up. You can’t be an ascetic until then.”

 

“I want to stay here,” McCree protested.

 

“Of course you do, but what good is it if you let yourself suffer?”

 

“What good am I anywhere?” McCree snapped. His lips draw back involuntarily in a snarl.  

 

Genji drew back. His hands reflectively went for his weapon. McCree retracted his exposed teeth. Furious.

 

“Okay,” Genji said. “I didn’t want to do this, but I’m pulling the family card. I want some time with my brother in private, can you give me that?”

 

McCree glared. Genji grinned because he knew he had won.

 

“And why don’t you go to the dining room and just wait there?” Genji called to him when McCree was at the door. “Some people might have made some foods.”

 

McCree sighed. He really did not want to give in, but the smell of roast beef was luring him, and McCree was a weak, weak man.

 

Ana and Reinhardt arrived on the fifth day at midnight. They shook hands with everyone, but hugged Jesse. Thankfully, they did so when they were in private, McCree might very well have snapped at them too if he was comforted in front of everyone.

 

Miss Zhou arrived on the same day in the early morning. She greeted Angela with warm hugs and Satya with admiring looks.

 

“Miss Vashwani!” Miss Zhou said enthusiastically. “I’m a big fan, I loved your new paper about hard light usage in the reduction of greenhouse gas!”   
  
“Likewise, Miss Zhou. Thank you for your work in our worlds.”

 

Miss Zhou might have well melted right into Satya’s arms, but she caught the sight of McCree just before that. She held his hands in hers, squeezing tightly.

 

“I’m here to help,” Zhou said, with all the seriousness of a scientist. “I am here to help.”

 

“Thank you, Miss Zhou,” McCree said softly.

 

“Please, call me Mei,” she pushed her glasses up and smiled. “We’re friends.”

 

On the eighth day, a tall, handsome man in a sharp suit came by. He shook hands with Angela, the enormous gauntlet enveloping the witch’s small hand completely. He did not come in or greeted anyone else, only left a small chip in Angela’s hand and left.

 

“There’s ten million credits in here,” Satya said, after running the chip in a scan for safety. “And researches on prosthetic technology for demons.”  

 

“I wouldn’t trust money from Talon,” Angela said uncomfortably.

 

Ana shrugged. “Money is money.”

 

Angela sighed. “Honestly, Miss Amari, out of all people….”

 

“I stand by my point.”

 

Genji and Mei stepped into McCree’s sides, with coy looks on their faces. Angela put the chip in an open box on the table. “We’ll keep it for now,” she said. “I’ll look at the data, and run it for bugs and spells every hour.”

 

“That man is Akande Ogundimu,” Mei said. “He is rumored to be the leader of Talon, but no hard evidence was ever found. But he does have a company with prosthetic businesses, and is known for treating monsters who are too poor to afford it for free.”

 

McCree wasn’t really interested, but he still nodded politely.

 

“And,” Genji cut in, a sly smile on his face. “He pursued Hanzo many years ago.”

 

McCree hummed. “Is that so,” and slammed the box holding the chip shut before storming into Hanzo’s room. Genji and Mei’s snickers followed him all the way.   

 

Their last visitors arrived on the twelfth day, and she arrived with a bang.

 

Angela only sighed, and took off her goggles in a slow and extremely tired speed.

 

“I’ll get the door,” Mei said sympathetically. Angela replied with a jerky nod.

 

“I’ll get it,” McCree said, and neither of the tired women protested.

 

Outside the door was a young demon. Behind her was a giant monster, its glowing mouth opened wide and waiting.

 

McCree stared at the girl with hesitant aggressiveness. Was she an enemy? Or a friend?

 

Out of nowhere, she blew a bubble from the gum McCree hadn’t noticed her eating, and popped it right in front of McCree’s face.

 

“What did the old man got himself into?” She grinned. “I’m here to save the day.”   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Horse Chestnut: Good for treatment of varicose veins and chronic venous insufficiency; topical gels can reduce swelling and tenderness due to injury. 
> 
> Ginseng: relieve fatigue
> 
> Hops: Good sleeping aid; smaller doses are used to ease tension and anxiety
> 
> Angela's tea for McCree -  
> Kava: good for relieving anxiety. Also muscle-relaxing effects.
> 
> Lemon Balm: Gentle calmative
> 
> [Reference](https://www.prevention.com/mind-body/natural-remedies/25-healing-herbs-you-can-use-every-day)


	26. Day 26: Realization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Realization: the act of achieving something that was planned or hoped for

“These aren’t cat whiskers, these are war paints!” Hana said.

 

“They look like whiskers,” McCree replied.

 

“Whiskers war paint.”

 

“Not very battle-like,” McCree shrugged.

 

Hana leaned forward and a shrill screech emitted from her now split open mouth, with rows of sharp teeth that weren’t there before. Her pupil became vertical and slit. McCree turned away and held a hand up to prevent the icy breath from the demon. An expression of fear failed to cross his face.

 

“It really ain’t that scary the twelfth time, you know,” McCree shook off the frosts that clung to his palm. Hana leaned back in her chair, feet propped up on Hanzo’s bed.

 

“Doing it reminds me of you falling off the bed when I did it the first time,” she said.

 

McCree scowled. “Anyone would be surprised by it.”

 

“You were screaming like a baby.”

 

“I thought you were gonna eat me!”

 

“Who will play games with me then?” Hana cocked her head innocently. “I wonder why Hanzo got so shit all of the sudden.”

 

“Hey, I didn’t know I was playing with his friend so I spend a lot of time goofing off.”

 

“You told me to watch and learn before you jumped off the cliff.”

 

“I was trying to make Hanzo laugh, and I succeeded.”

 

“We have to play more and get you all trained up so you can impress him when he wakes up.”

 

McCree brushed Hanzo’s fringes out of his face, fingers lingered on his cheekbone. “Yeah.”

 

Hana stood and stretched. “I’m going to sleep,” she said, already walking away and waving without looking back. “See you tomorrow.”

 

McCree didn’t reply. She never hears him anyway.

 

McCree settled down on the bed next to Hanzo’s. He had moved both the beds so they would be facing the mountains outside. Gushes of cold air drifted into the room, but Angela’s blanket never failed to keep him warm.

 

From the windows a paucity of snow floated into the room, but it wasn’t until it hit McCree’s face and melted did he realize. He had thought they were dusts.  

 

McCree closed his eyes and relished in the heat among the cold, wishing Hanzo could enjoy this with him.

 

* * *

 

Mei made food that was insipid if she did not pour a generous amount of hot sauce on everything and anything. Usually Reinhardt made breakfast for everyone, but today he was helping in the lab and Mei needed a break.

 

Luckily the people joining in for the group breakfast today either had no taste buds or did not care what food tasted like as long as it was edible. That meant McCree, Hana, Zenyatta sat around the dining table eating happily while Mei watched happily.

 

Genji was nowhere to be found, likely fled to the nearest town to get food when he saw Mei in the kitchen.

 

“Why can’t he cook himself?” McCree asked.

 

“He has the taste of a royalty, but the skills of a spoiled child,” Zenyatta replied serenely.

 

McCree left the dining group a short while later. The lab was as soundless as always from the outside, McCree had been told by Satya that meant everyone was focused on their jobs and therefore good things, _so don’t worry._

Before she picked him up like he was a doll and sat him down outside of the lab. “Go play somewhere else,” she had said, clearly being condescending.

 

“Woah, you’re really mean when people interrupt you, you know that?” McCree had replied.

 

She nodded, then shut the door.

 

Silent meant good things, McCree thought.

 

He went back to Hanzo, like he always did in the past two weeks. The soft cushioned chair had formed a clear imprint of his ass from the amount of time he just sat there.

 

There was nothing he could do but be there for Hanzo when he wakes up. He knew how preposterous the idea was, Hanzo probably wouldn’t care whether he was alone or not when he wakes up.

 

McCree was sitting by Hanzo’s bed day and night for himself, and he suspected everyone under the roof knew this.

 

He just hoped Hanzo would end his misery, and _wake up._

 

The morning sun in Switzerland did little to nothing for the temperature. McCree wondered if Angela charmed her property to stay below a certain temperature because she liked it. It certainly was –

 

A groan came from behind McCree and he froze in front of the windows, fearing it was the roars of the mountain winds.

 

Then, too low to be heard by anyone else, a small sigh: _Jesse_

 

McCree rushed to Hanzo as the man reached for him. Hanzo’s hands stretched, waiting mutely. McCree’s hands slid into Hanzo’s.

 

“Hanzo,” McCree croaked. “Darling, honey, sweetheart, _Hanzo_.”

 

Hanzo tried to pull McCree in, and McCree wanted to fall in so badly he could cry, but he promised. He promised Angela he would call her as soon as Hanzo woke up.

 

“Wait, hon,” McCree stepped away to get to the pager she left in the room. Hanzo refused to let go of McCree’s hands. McCree choked on the lump in his throat as he pressed his cheek to Hanzo’s forehead.

 

“I need to call Angela,” he said. He wanted so much to just hold Hanzo right now, but who knew when he’ll let go? “Just a quick second, okay?”

 

One of McCree’s hands was freed, then the other moments later. McCree rushed to and back in seconds. Their lips met in a hard embrace.

 

The door swung open too fast for both McCree and Hanzo’s liking. They separated, knowing better than to get into witches’ way. Angela checked the swelling of Hanzo’s legs and swiftly adjusted the IV.

 

“That dosage would be too much for your body once you are conscious,” Angela explained. “Now you just mainly need to rest with minor herbal treatment. Can you get him some of the water on the table?”

 

It took a while before McCree realized she meant him. Hanzo took the water from McCree and drank it slowly. The door opened once again. Hana, Genji and Satya poured into the room.

 

Sudden noises drowned out the winds and Hanzo’s voice was unmistakable. McCree was about to pull away to allow others space when Hanzo’s hands were suddenly around McCree’s again.

 

Hanzo’s eyes were on his brother and friends, but McCree held Hanzo’s focus. They held onto each other in wordless conversation; until they forgot they weren’t alone; until one another were all they could remember.      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you try to center your mind on your surroundings but your heart keeps rounding back to the same thing over and over. no matter how hard you tried to focus, the only thing you could remember was him.


	27. Day 27: Cage

The sound of McCree’s paws digging into the snow on the hillside was outrageously muted considering he was leaping up the mountain at an inhuman speed with Hanzo on his back and a picnic basket tied around his neck. Hanzo’s fists were tight in McCree’s fur, but he was lazed and comfortable, well used to traveling like this.

 

McCree sat and let Hanzo slipped down from his back after they got to the top. Angela’s house was embedded in the mountain beneath them. From this height the valley stretching looked more daunting, and the howls of the wind almost deafening around them. A shape formed in the wind: a ghoul that appeared and fled at the same time at the sight of Hanzo.

 

Hanzo snickered, “Even without legs I am still intimidating.”

 

McCree whined at him. Hanzo pressed a kiss to McCree’s snout before opening the basket. He took out a piece of paper with Angela’s writing on it, and burned it.

 

A thin veil enveloped them in a bubble shape circle, and silence followed. If it wasn’t for the warmth of the spell and the flurry of snow around them, the soundlessness almost sounded dead. McCree transformed back and laid a blanket down on the snow, and wrapped his serape around Hanzo.

 

They shifted onto the little patch of dryness among the snow. Genji voiced his distaste for their daily trip before, he did not understand the appeal of white sky and white mountains. Hanzo riposted with a snide remark that it was because Genji had no one to enjoy it with. Genji would have pounced on Hanzo if the elder Shimada hadn’t used his wounded excuse and patted his thighs innocently.

 

“You should get his legs done so we can end his tyranny as quickly as possible,” Genji had said to Angela dryly.

 

McCree couldn’t agree more, though not because of the same reason as Genji. Every sardonic comment Hanzo makes about his situation did nothing but sink McCree’s heart down a little at a time. Hanzo had been so accepting of the loss of his legs it had been unbelievable for McCree to witness and bear. McCree was ambivalent about Hanzo’s reaction because at the same time McCree didn’t want to see Hanzo sullen – his own experience with loss of limb told him Hanzo should be devastated over it, and that all the humor was just to cover it up. That seized McCree’s heart further, thinking that Hanzo would try to force verdure in front of McCree.

 

Or maybe Hanzo really didn’t care, and McCree wondered for the countless time in the past few days that if so, _how_. He looked in silence at Hanzo laying out the pastries, sandwiches and muffins they brought. Hanzo handed McCree the thermos, one filled with coffee and one with tea. McCree poured tea for the both of them. _It goes better with savory food_ , Hanzo had said. _We’ll leave coffee for the sweets_.

 

“What is on your mind,” said Hanzo, sipping his tea.

 

“Nothing important,” McCree said, and meant it. His worries were nothing.

 

“Then why do you insist on coming up here every day?”

 

McCree frowned. “You asking me why I want to spend time with you?”

 

Hanzo looked askance at McCree. “You are not just trying to spend time with me,” he said. “You are taking me _out_.”

 

McCree blinked, unsure of where Hanzo was going with this. “You mean, on dates?”

 

“No,” Hanzo laughed. “Jesse, are you worried that I feel trapped?”

 

McCree deadpanned. “Am I that that obvious?”

 

“Do not be sarcastic with me,” Hanzo pinched McCree’s ear fondly. “Why do you look so somber all the time?” Hanzo asked, and then, “I’m the one that lost two legs.”

 

McCree grabbed Hanzo’s hands and yanked them away from his face. “Why do you keep doing that?” He asked.

 

“What?”

 

“Mentioning your legs like it’s a joke.”

 

Hanzo looked steadily at McCree. “Best of all possible worlds, is it not?”

 

“My ass,” McCree snapped. “Hanzo, stop fucking with me. You are not the kind to fake optimism, or to be optimistic at all, so why are you so damn calm about it? I lost one arm and felt like I couldn’t do anything, you lost two legs and acts like you lost nothing. ”

 

Hanzo regarded McCree with a calm look, waiting for McCree to finish his outburst. McCree scrunched his nose.

 

“I am well aware that I lost something, Jesse,” Hanzo said. “But I am not bothered by it.”

 

“ _Not_ bother by it-”

 

McCree was silenced by a finger to his mouth. When he pouted in surrender, Hanzo trailed his finger across McCree’s lips, back and forth. “Trust me, I had my short outburst during the time I was unconscious. But it was over quickly, so quickly, Jesse. It was over the moment I woke up and saw you, and everyone else. How could I be discouraged when I know, for a fact, that you and they will help me recover?”

 

McCree stared at Hanzo, dumbfounded. Hanzo cupped McCree’s face as though he was the one that needed comfort. “I don’t feel caged,” Hanzo continued. “My only remorse is that I couldn’t make you feel this safe and secure when you were going through it.”

 

McCree blinked mutely, at the loss of words, but thankfully, Hanzo did not seem to mind that he responded with a kiss.  

 


	28. Day 28: Power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merriam-Webster came out with a [Monster quiz](https://www.merriam-webster.com/word-games/halloween-2016-quiz?defrecirc-flyin#) !! It's so hard I got most of it wrong XD its fun tho
> 
> Also sorry if this one is a mess, its four am and I had a long, fun day at the LGBT pride parade here today! After a whole day my brain is so fried, please feel free to point out mistakes my eyes aren't working anymore

Angela insisted on sleep. Hanzo had never been fond of it. It was dreamless, stiffing, and a general waste of time, but he had built up the habit for McCree, and lost it when he woke up from his coma. His body was restless, and going back to sleep felt ridiculous.

 

But the doctor insisted. She said the drug and herbs worked better if the body was unconscious, especially the deep and devoid-of-dream sleep an oni was prone to.

 

McCree made it easier. He sometimes curled up in the now double size plus extra-large bed as a wolf around Hanzo. Sometimes he stayed as a man and tucked his head under Hanzo’s chin, his breath an ineffable warmth in the crook of Hanzo’s neck. No amount of Angela’s benzodiazepine could surpass the salient of McCree’s simple present. Hanzo sleeps, for days now, and McCree with him.

 

If only McCree stayed – Hanzo never woke up to find him alone, but he didn’t need to. McCree was always there in the morning, smelling different than the night before. Of snow, of grass, snow, then clean soap, a pattern of his whereabouts. Werewolves were not the only kind that was made to track. Where did he go every night, that he needed to wash off?

 

The only person Hanzo confided in was Genji, but he was unaware of McCree’s actions. Angela didn’t know anything, said the security spells on her property was never triggered in the night. Satya and Mei poured their energy out in the lab and Hanzo couldn’t bring himself to bother them. Ana, Reinhardt and Zenyatta were away on businesses. Hana said nothing.

 

Hanzo left it for a few days. They were never partners that reported their every action to one another, both valuing occasional solitude. But Hanzo was concerned that perhaps McCree was crossed with him, and wondered what he had unconsciously done again (he’s wondered this on too many occasions since McCree and he got together).

 

Hanzo opened his eyes, and there McCree was: placid and warm, drooling on Hanzo’s chest. Hanzo doubted McCree thought he was credulous as he buried his nose in McCree’s hair and smelled fresh apples from the homemade shampoo in the house, but got the feeling that McCree was counting on Hanzo’s respect to him and waiting for a good time to talk.

 

About what? Hanzo thought, in a voice so low he himself almost didn’t hear it. What are you doing that would take you far away from your friend and lover?

 

McCree shifted in Hanzo’s arms, his head bumped slightly on Hanzo’s chin and he murmured an apology. Hanzo scratched his blunt nails across McCree’s back, down to his soft waist. McCree squirmed, moaning in dismay.

 

“It’s too early for tickling,” McCree mumbled into Hanzo’s chest.

 

“I was not trying to,” Hanzo replied, tailing his nails back up and into McCree’s hair, against his scalp. McCree hummed pleasantly.

 

They stayed in bed, waiting for their bodies to wake up by itself before turning to the help of caffeine.

 

McCree volunteered to fetch hot beverages for them – and of course it was him, Hanzo hardly could be of help, but he didn’t say his thoughts. McCree returned with two cups of coffee, one with soy milk and one with sugar. They sipped their coffee, sitting facing each other the bed. A quiet, bright morning, just chilly enough for the hot coffee to be satisfying. Just right enough for a talk.

 

“I’ve been thinking about the attacks,” McCree started.

 

Hanzo nodded. McCree sat his coffee down. “Why would you be targeted so heavily out of nowhere?”

 

“I would assume it was revenge,” Hanzo said. McCree nodded. “For what, though, I do not know.”

 

“I thought it may be plain ol’ demon hunters,” McCree said. “But oni are seen as protectors in Japan, and western churches have no interest in hunting your kind when they have a shit ton of demons of their own to worry about.”  


“4,439,556 demons, to be exact,” Hanzo helpfully supplied.

  
  
“All right, smart ass.” McCree rolled his eyes. “So these people aren’t hunting you for what you are, so it must be for what you have done.” McCree said. “When they attacked, they were uncoordinated, getting in each other’s way, all using different firearms. So probably bounty hunters that made temporary allegiance. I went back to the place of the attacks to look around. Found traces of the holly they used from the bullet holes and ran it through the lab for matches of minerals and soil in North America-”

 

“How do you know it’s North America?”

 

McCree blinked, as though he hadn’t thought of explaining it. “Oh, it’s stupid. I found one of the man’s boots and the sizing on it was US sizing. They were military issued boots so they probably didn’t buy it. I just ran with the idea to narrow the target down. Lucky guess.”

 

Shoe size, Hanzo’s jaw hung open slightly.

 

“Anyhow, they got their supply from East US. All from the same batch of specialized bullets. If these people are only working together for this job the most probable reason they would have different weapons but same ammunition is the same employer.”

 

McCree continued, “I ran a search of all your past assassinations – and sweetheart, you killed a lot of people. Twenty-seven target from Eastern US. Ten of them have surviving family or friends. One of them have access of contact to hunters. Hana and I went to look for him.”

 

“Hana was helping you?” Of course she was. Sneaking pass a witch’s spell, far travels in short time, fooling other demons under the same roof – of course it was Hana.

 

“Yeah, she wasn’t happy about the people who tried to kill you too, you know.” McCree rolled his shoulders, and massaged the nape of his neck. He must be tired from running around every night. “We found him, made him talk. He admitted. I wanted to take him to the authority, Hana was not as polite. I couldn’t care less, if I’m honest. I would bring back his legs for you to throw off the mountains if I knew Angela wouldn’t care. ”

 

Hanzo stayed quiet. He didn’t know what to say, and he had to physically restrain himself from picking apart the man before him and savoring everything about Jesse until they melted together because Hanzo has never been more sure of love than he did in that moment.

 

“I…” Hanzo started, then swallowed.

 

McCree took a sip of coffee and smiled. He smiled at Hanzo’s speechlessness. And he did not seem to mind that Hanzo responded with a kiss.  
  
   

                                                                                 


	29. Day 29: Invitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how "Invitation" turned into this, im sorry lol!

“My friend is playing in a small town tonight. A small bar with live music and Halloween party,” Hana said. “I think you two should come with me, test out the new legs.” 

 

“Just the three of us?” McCree asked. His arm was slung across the back of the couch. Hanzo laid his head on it, and a look of distaste crossed his face at Hana’s idea.

 

“All the others are busy working on writing papers about successfully building a demon’s prosthetic!” Hana whined. “Satya can’t hang out, Mei can’t hang out. Zenyatta is busy. I’m stuck with you two, you have to be responsible.”

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Genji said. “Why am I excluded in all this?”

 

“Huh?” Hana finally looked at Genji. “Oh, damn, bro, totally forgot you were here.”

 

“The fucking nerve,” Genji slumped back in his seat. “Who’s your friend?”

 

“He’s an independent DJ, Lúcio Correia dos Santos.”

 

Genji jumped up. “What!”

 

“What?”

 

“Lúcio is playing at a Halloween party? Don’t you need an invitation to get in? Can I go? Please? Hanzo is no fun at parties he just drinks until he pass out (“I do not,” Hanzo interrupted), please, Can I go?”

 

“Of course I can get the invites, you doofus, Lúcio is a close friend.” Hana smirked at Hanzo and McCree, who both still looked uninterested. “If you get them to go, you can go to.”

 

Genji immediately turned to his brother. “Hanzo, you remember the time you almost kill–”

 

“I’ll go if you don’t finish that sentence,” Hanzo cut in.

 

“Yes!”

 

“Jesus,” McCree said.

 

Ana came into the room with a bowl of candy in her hand. “What are you all talking about?”

 

“We’re going to a Halloween party tonight!” Hana said. “Do you want to come?”

 

Ana laughed. “I think I’ll stay in and watch horror films.”

 

“At least we won’t have to dress up, that’s a plus,” McCree scratched his beard.

 

“What’s the fun in that?” Ana said. “But you kids have fun tonight. Don’t scare anyone, and here’s some candy.”

 

“Everyone here except McCree is older than you,” Hana retorted.

 

“Sure,” Ana smiled, and dropped some candies into Hana’s waiting palm. She went around the room distributing candies into everyone’s hand before walking to the door.

 

“Thank you, Ana,” all of them said in unison when she left. Ana greeted Satya who was about to come in.

 

“She trained you all so well,” Satya gibed.

 

“And we get sweets for it,” Genji said over a mouthful of chocolate.

 

Satya smiled even though she pretended to ignore him and regarded Hanzo, “I’m here to do some checkup.”

 

Hanzo propped his new legs up on a small stool. They were slick red, strong enough to endure the amount of works a demon put their body through. Red because it was the natural color of the metal, and, like an afterthought which Hanzo kept to himself, red like McCree’s eyes. He was more than satisfied with it.

 

Satya tested the joint, his reflects, and almost as if for fun, she burned the metal with her magic.

 

“Do you feel it?” She asked.

 

“Not at all,” Hanzo replied.

 

Satya hummed and stood. “That’s too bad,” she said. “Perhaps someday we will make you feel it.”

 

After Satya left, McCree leaned into Hanzo’s ear and whispered, “I’m not sure if that’s a threat or a promise.”  

 

Hanzo smiled lazily back, shrugging. His legs propped up comfortably; his head nestled on McCree’s arm and he slipped a hand in McCree’s hand while the other hand into McCree’s long hair, combing through softly.

 

Ten minutes later, Hanzo fell asleep against McCree.

 

“Mark this as the epochal moment of the century,” Genji said. “My brother is napping for no reason. Am I dead? Is this afterlife?”

 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Hana said, but she snapped a picture of Hanzo with Genji flashing a peace sign next to his brother. Hana laughed as she reviewed the pictures. “Legend has it: if you wait long enough, you will see the fearsome Hanzo Shimada fall asleep drooling on his werewolf partner’s shoulder.”

 

“Y’all are ruthless,” McCree said very gently so he won’t jostle Hanzo awake. Because McCree did agree with them, it was like a bird landing on you. You feel like the chosen one, having a demon feel safe enough to nap against you with company around.

 

“He might as well rest now,” Hana said. “We’re gonna have a night of horror tonight.”

 

Hana took this party seriously. In addition of a human disguise, she dragged a very willing Genji into a last minute dress up. But without any premade costume the best they could muster up was a pair of bunny ears.

 

“You two have to dress up as well,” Hana said.

 

“Okay,” Hanzo picked up Genji’s mask and put it on. “I’m Genji. I chew too loudly and won’t listen to criticism.”

 

Genji picked up a couch and threw it at Hanzo. Hanzo caught it with ease and told him to stop trying to break Angela’s stuff. Hana ignored them and turned to McCree.

 

“Any idea?” She asked.

 

McCree shrugged, looking into the wardrobe. “I don’t think Angela’s clothes would be any good on me.”

 

Hana gasped and took out a tight-fitting, low-cut blue dress. “You can be Jessica Rabbit!”

 

“I don’t think anyone would want to see that, not would that dress fit me,” McCree deadpanned.

 

Hana gathered the dress in her hand and shook it out, now the dress was red and a many sizes bigger. “Try it.”

 

McCree looked over and saw Hanzo and Genji still engaging in rapid back-and-forth bickering, so he took the dress and let himself be shoved into the bathroom. “Are you my fairy godmother? I didn’t know dressmaking was part of a demon’s power.”

 

“Does it fit?”

 

“Hold your horses, jeez,” McCree slipped into the dress and wrestled with the zippers for a minute. “God, this is like fighting with Satan, how do people breathe in this?”

 

“Is it too tight?” Hana said loudly to cover up the noise of Genji and Hanzo fighting in the background. “Shut up, you two!”  

 

“A little,” McCree looked at himself in the mirror. “I don’t think I want to walk around in this.”

 

“Huh? I can’t hear you – shut the fuck up!” Hana yelled.

 

“I said,” McCree took in a breath, and shouted “I don’t want to walk around in this!”

 

Silence followed, and McCree realized too late that Hana did managed to get the brothers to be quiet.

 

“In what?” Hanzo asked.

 

“In – ” Hana started, but McCree yelled over her in panic. “Nothing! Nothing special!”

 

McCree began to fumble with the dress, but in the two seconds he turned his back to the door Hanzo slipped in, and stared at McCree. McCree turned and yelped at Hanzo’s sudden appearance. Hanzo made no move of shutting the slowly drifting door behind him, so McCree reached over and slammed it shut. Hana protested loudly outside.

 

“I was changing!” McCree said in mortification. Hanzo wasn’t saying anything, lord, why did he let Hana talk him into anything. “I mean, you’ve seen all of this, but-”

 

McCree’s words were muffled by Hanzo’s lips pressed heavily on his opened mouth. Hanzo backed him into the sink and McCree accidently knocked over some toothbrushes because he didn’t know what to do with his hands. Hanzo’s own were iron grips on McCree’s waist, kneading down. McCree moaned when Hanzo’s fingers dipped below his hips and hoisted him up to the sink.

 

McCree gasped for breath, “Han-” but he didn’t get to finish as Hanzo began to suck on his tongue.

 

In the end McCree let himself sink in, and wrapped his arms around Hanzo’s shoulder for balance. McCree slipped down a few times. Hanzo always picked him back up. Their tongue wetted their lips in a messy desperate loud manner. Their hands gripped wherever was available. Hanzo locked McCree in his arms and pulled away for just a second. McCree gasped for air, but the damn dress and embrace was making his lung fail in elatedness-

 

Hanzo dropped his face and pressed a kiss to McCree’s exposed chest, snapping McCree out of his reverie. McCree flushed red, from the tip of his ears down to his chest that was being littered with kisses.

 

“Hanzo,” McCree squirmed as Hanzo kissed slowly up to McCree’s neck, lingering over his pulse. “Han-zo,” McCree panted.

 

It was not for another half an hour did they staggered out of the bathroom, disheveled and dazed, finding the room empty except for the clear signs of hasty escape by their two friends.

 

“Maybe you should not wear this to the party tonight,” Hanzo mused.

 

McCree smirked, straightening his hair. “Wouldn’t want to get kicked out the bar because someone can’t keep their hands to themselves.”

 

Hanzo gave McCree’s ass a squeeze, eyes half-lidded, “That would be harrowing.”      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw an artist on tumblr who drew mchanzo as Roger and Jessica Rabbit and i stg I can't get McCree in that dress looking stunningly beautiful out of my head!!!


	30. Day 30: Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Halloween where I am!!! Happy Halloween everyone!!*ghost emoji*

“I do have razors, you know,” Angela informed.

 

“I’m used to shaving with a knife,” Hanzo said. “Why bother bringing an extra object when tactical knives can do the same thing?”

 

“Sanitary concerns, I would hope so,” Angela said dryly. “And you are not the one shaving.”

 

That was true, Hanzo rolled his eyes. McCree was the one holding the bowie knife against Hanzo’s neck, carefully dragging the blade across bare skin. McCree grunted in dismay.

 

“And all this talking is making it very hard for me to work,” McCree grumbled.

 

“And what is the meaning of this? A trust game, instead of falling, you’re leaving the neck exposed?” Angela asked. “Or, did you somehow break your arm in the few hours of my absence?”

 

Hanzo looked at her incredulously. “No, we just prefer to shave for each other.” When McCree moved the blade away to wash off the cream, Hanzo rubbed his thumb over McCree’s beard. “Although, I am not sure I’ve ever succeeded in shaving you. It seems like your hair grow back the second it is cut off.”

 

McCree smirked, proud, as he tilted Hanzo’s face back again. “Like the Lernaean Hydra?”

 

Hanzo smiled with his eyes closed, enjoying the coolness of trust against his skin. “Just like the Lernaean Hydra,” he agreed.

 

Angela looked down at Hanzo as if she was seeing him for the first time. She quickly composed herself, “I hope it’s almost done, I’m here to show you two how clean your prosthetics.” She turned her gaze to McCree, even if the man was focused on his task. “I suppose you would like to stay as well then, Jesse?”

 

“Yes,” McCree and Hanzo said at the same time. McCree leaned back, palms out and knife between his fingers as if to say  _ voilà _ . “All done.”

 

Hanzo wiped his face off with a washcloth and McCree cleaned the table up, moving everything back to the bathroom for later. Angela lay the equipment out on the table.

 

The process was easy enough. Both men got the hang of it after the first explanation, but Angela left them with a pamphlet anyway.

 

“Lunch is almost ready,” she said after they finished, standing up. “Reinhardt is cooking, so we’ll need all the soldiers we have for this meal.”

 

“I love it when Reinhardt cook,” McCree said to Hanzo.

“He loves to watch you eat three-man portion food,” Hanzo said. “Makes him feel accomplished.”

 

“I love that he serves beer with breakfast,” McCree bellowed with laughter and put on a horrendous German accent. “It’s five p.m. somewhere in the world!”

 

Hanzo stifled a laugh. “You know that he is teasing you, right?”

 

McCree’s grin dropped. “What?”

 

“He’s poking fun at you saying ‘It’s always high noon somewhere in the world’.”

 

“ _ What _ .” McCree groaned. “I did not know that.” Hanzo laughed and leaned in to kiss him on the nose.

 

“He doesn’t mean any harm by it.”

 

“No, of course not, he’s Reinhardt.” McCree flopped onto the bed and dragged Hanzo down with him. “Can I tell you something?”

 

Hanzo propped himself up on McCree’s chest, raking his nails across the hair on there. “Yes?”

 

“I can’t wait to get out of here.”

 

“Oh god, me too,” Hanzo dropped his forehead to the crook of McCree’s neck and breathed out heavily. “I don’t think I can stand Hana shouting at her games at the most random hours of the day anymore.”

 

“Or Genji’s hair,” McCree added. “It’s so bright, it hurts my eyes.”  

 

“Mei is always teasing about us.”

 

“Ana teases me, too.”

 

“Angela’s been trying to get me into one of her deals,” Hanzo said.

 

“I think Satya tried to eat me once.” McCree chuckled.

 

“And Zenyatta keeps trying to convert me into his cult.”

 

They stayed on the bed in silence for a while, looking at the snow, so dense and dull they could hardly see the mountain across. The windows in early morning were a pale gleam against the dark sky. The rooms always felt just cold enough that you would want to seek out the nearest warmth.

 

“We’re gonna miss them, aren’t we?” McCree said, in the end.

 

“Very much so, I’m afraid,” Hanzo replied softly.

 

McCree wrapped his arms around Hanzo and got up. Hanzo lifted his face to look at McCree. They gazed at each other, and thought about themselves, being two very private men living among friends and the annoyance of it and also the loveliness of it.

 

“Ah, well,” McCree stretched, and scratched his belly. “Guess we should make the most of it and go have some breakfast.”

 

Hanzo slid off McCree and pulled him to his feet. “That sounds like a good plan for the day.”

 

“Also, Hanzo?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Don’t tell Genji I think his hair is obnoxious, or any of this conversation.”

 

A light laugh. “It’ll be our little secret.”  

 


	31. Day 31: Final

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done! *throws confetti* But I don't think *I'm* done with this au yet. It's now a series, and I will probably add fics to it as I think of ideas. Also, there will be a separate fic in the series that's just for all the r18 fics! The first one may be up in a few days, depends on if I catch up on enough school work haha
> 
> This has been such a fun challenge, and doing it seriously made the month go by so fast. It's Halloween already!!Holy shit!!! Thank you to all the people who left kudos and commented! I had equally much fun talking with you all as I did writing, talking about myths is so much fun 
> 
> If there's any questions you have regarding the fic, and or prompt you liked to see in this au, or just something in the fic you want to see more of, don't hesitate to tell me on my [Tumblr](http://cibeeeeee.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/spiciestcibee?lang=zh-tw).
> 
> It's been a real blast, once again thank you all, and Happy Halloween!

Their final day began at night. Angela opened up her grand dining area, saying she finally convinced the ghosts that lived inside to clear out for the night. The witch even sent a familiar out to a famous little restaurant in town for a generous spread of dinner. No one sat at the tables, everyone walked around and chatted among themselves. Wine, beer, soda, champagne, cocktail in hands, it was like a fancy party at a fancy gathering, the food and drinks and company were certainly up to par,  except nobody were faking smiles and everybody was having fun.

 

McCree spent the majority of the night eating. It was probably the last time he will have so much good food for free in a long time. Hana shared his sentiment and stayed by his side most of the time so they could eat and not talk but still be with someone.

 

“That’s some good food,” Hana sighed. “I mostly just eat cup noodles when I’m hungry. Maybe I should get a cook.”

 

“At least you can hire a cook,” McCree said. “Hanzo and I are in the middle of nowhere half of the time, we have to catch our own food and there’s only so much you can do in the wild to make anything taste good.”

 

“You chose to do what you do,” Hana said over a mouthful of mash potato, gravy, bacon and hamburger. “Don’t complain.”

 

McCree tried to retort, but he almost choked on his roasted apple duck when he opened his mouth to speak. He coughed violently.

 

Someone stuck a glass of beer under his nose, McCree grabbed it and downed the drink in one go. Sighing in relief, McCree met Hanzo’s eyes.

 

“Reckoned you saved my life there, darling,” McCree grinned.

 

Hanzo smiled. He used his thumb to wipe away a spot of gravy in McCree’s beard. “I was hoping I could borrow Hana,” he said.  

 

McCree nudged the woman in the shoulder, and she turned with a big piece of cake on her fork. “I’m busy,” Hana said.

 

Hanzo shook his head, and jerked it behind him, asking her to follow him. Hana rolled her eyes and told McCree to watch her plate and not let _anyone_ touch it.

 

McCree guarded the plate of food dutifully, his eyes followed Hanzo. Where McCree had been eating for the most of the night, Hanzo had been talking – thanking, to be exact. Thanking everyone in the room that came just for him. Satya who responded to McCree’s call of distress almost instantaneously that night, and brought them all to Angela’s doorstep. And the witch, _The Witch_ , who saved Hanzo’s life. Everyone else, who came to help the witch and the architect to brainstorm solution for Hanzo’s loss of limbs. Hanzo’s family, who came because they couldn’t stand not being there for him even though they knew perfectly well Hanzo didn’t need the company.

 

There were so many people to thank and only so much time to do so, McCree sympathized. Not to mention Hanzo was incapable of offering any banal gratitude, everything he chose to say tonight were things that came out of a demon’s soul. A demon doesn’t forget life debts.

 

McCree poured himself a glass of whiskey. Gratitude and farewell. This was their last night here. Despite everyone’s willingness to stay, they all have places to be. It was time for them to go back on the road.

 

_Journey ends in lovers’ meeting_ , McCree thought, out of nowhere, with no clue why. McCree had never seen the play. He did not even know the context, only heard it in passing conversation. McCree shook the thought away. _Journey ends in lovers’ meeting._

Hana came back with Hanzo in tow. McCree finally sat down for the first time this night, it felt like a moment to sit down. Hana also seated, with Hanzo in between.

 

They drifted into easy conversation, somewhere during the discuss on the new book by a famous mystery author, Genji and Zenyatta joined in. Then Reinhardt when the chatting became about the museums in Germany. The topics changed wildly and smoothly, people joining and leaving. McCree thought it had been a long time since he had talked so quickly to get a word in the haze of heated conversations, smiling so wildly when agreeing with someone, and laughing when disagreeing with another. When McCree got tired he could take a break and turn to the full drink in his hand and the lovely lover by his side. It was a party for the finale of their part in this journey, but it felt very much like the beginning of something.

 

McCree was lost in the warm buzz of alcohol in his blood when Hanzo gently shook him.

 

“Come with me,” he said. McCree let himself be pulled to his feet, and followed Hanzo to the balcony.

 

“Damn,” McCree shouted when they stepped into the outside air. Snow melted on his skin warmed by the fire indoors. “Fuck! It’s cold.”

 

Hanzo shook out a big quilt and wrapped it around the both of them. McCree circled his arms around Hanzo’s waist and pulled their bodies closer inside the quilt. The balcony was on the outside corner of the room, any light that shined through dimmed to a soft glow in the snow. No one can see them outside.

 

“Why are you suddenly in the mood for freezing?” McCree asked, even though he was hardly cold anymore.

 

“To have an excuse to stay like this, I suppose,” Hanzo replied, his breath hot.

 

McCree laughed. “Okay, what is this really about?”

 

Hanzo regarded McCree curiously. “You do not really think I would forget you, do you?”

 

“Forget what?”

 

“I have spent the most of tonight expressing my gratitude for the people that was there for me,” Hanzo said. “And you would honestly think you are not on that list?”

 

McCree stared, mutely. Finally, he said, “I guess I didn’t think I’ve done anything.”

 

Hanzo’s palms pressed against McCree’s chest, flattened, strong above his heart. “I am beyond grateful for what everyone did for me, truly. Sometimes I still have to remind myself that it actually happened.”

 

Hanzo cocked his head, eyes trained on his own hands, still gripping at McCree’s heart. “But Angela could give me the best treatment and Satya could build me the best prosthetics and everything else, none of it would compare to what you did for me.”

 

McCree stammered. He blamed it on the cold. “I don’t rightly know what I did, Hanzo.”   

 

Hanzo shook his head. “And that is perhaps one of the reasons I love you.”

 

McCree couldn’t help it, his arms were already around Hanzo and Hanzo was already holding him up, so it seemed like the only logical thing to do was to melt against Hanzo like the snowflakes against their skins.

 

“I don’t think we say that to each other often enough,” McCree replied weakly.

 

“We should start doing it more, then.” Hanzo shifted so he could hold onto McCree more comfortably. “What I am trying to say is, a long time ago, you asked me ‘Have I ever sat you down, look you in the eye, and say _thank you_?’”

 

McCree remembered, but only the feeling of it. Not when, or where, or the exact words. Hanzo said it like he had been pondering the words in his mind countless times, like he had wished say it out loud countless more. Hanzo’s gaze were downcast again, he guided McCree’s arms away so he could hold McCree’s hands in his.

 

Hanzo looked up, into McCree’s eyes. “You have done so much more for me than you think, Jesse. So much that I’ve been thinking about it for almost every second we’ve been together and I still cannot find the words. But if I have to say – try to say, then, by choosing me, and thinking I am worthy of you, I cannot thank you enough.”

 

McCree held Hanzo’s gaze, and became acutely aware of the snow that got caught in Hanzo’s eyelashes, and the numbness in his nose. Hanzo looked outwardly like this, bearing his soul out. McCree felt a hot flash behind his eyes.

 

“God, you _asshole_ , Hanzo,” McCree said, and Hanzo released one hand to wipe away the tears that dropped from McCree’s eyes. He was an ugly crier, and hated crying in front of people even if he wasn’t. McCree tilted his face up and palmed at his face hard, drying the wetness as much as he could; pinching the bridge of his nose to stop the pain that had settled there. Hanzo rubbed a soothing thumb across McCree’s cheek.

 

“I’m sorry if I upset you,” Hanzo said, teasing. “Loveliest.”

 

McCree burst out laughing. “Okay, now you’re just messing with me. Pet names are my forte, sweetheart.”

 

Hanzo kissed McCree right then, hard, chaste, and warm. It tasted like whisky and salt. _Damn tears_ , McCree thought, as he leaned in to deepen the kiss, _always ruining everything_.

 

Hanzo opened his mouth and drew McCree’s tongue in, nipping at his bottom lips lightly before releasing it. McCree felt the pull of Hanzo’s teeth on his lips, and didn’t want to have it gone so soon. Hanzo accepted the second kiss readily.

 

They stayed like that for long, allowing snow to melt on their skins.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Everyone left in the dark, as they always did. Critters of the night sky; monsters in human world, and human in monster world. They moved with the shadows, the darkness seemed to follow them instead of the other way around.   
  
One by one each split up. Angela said farewell at her doorstep. Hana took off into the air with a shiny blast, twirling in the air before shooting across the sky. Satya left through her transporter. Mei, Ana and Reinhardt, took the bus. Genji and Zenyatta on foot, but to a different path than them.   
  
All that was left was McCree and Hanzo, finally. They moved on the snowy plain, smooth in theory, but when you actually walk on it, your legs always sunk, and it took effort to take another step. It will be a difficult journey, and _j_ _ourney ends in lovers’ meeting._

That dame line again, McCree wanted to laugh. Now McCree remembered - the bard who wrote the play might be regarded as a genius, but the man who uttered the phrase was a fool. Different story, different meaning, McCree supposed, his heart was too tender at the moment to be cynical.

 

Hanzo walked next to him, tall and stately. They moved in sync, knowing not where they were going, but where they wanted to be. Journeys doesn’t end in lovers’ meeting, at least, not when it’s them.    

**Author's Note:**

> [Rakshasi ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rakshasa) is a mythological being in Hindu mythology, I believe that is enough tell for who this character is. But another fun fact anyways: Rakshasas are created from the breath of Brahma, when he was asleep at Satya Yuga.  
>  I aim to include her in future stories, and many more mythological creatures from around the world if I can :>!!!
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr](http://cibeeeeee.tumblr.com/) and/or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/spiciestcibee?lang=zh-tw) !


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